Edmund Spenser

[English | 1553–1599]

And all for love, and nothing for reward.

It's love that inspires
It’s love that inspires.

And he that strives to touch the stars, Oft stumbles at a straw.

Edmund Spenser was an English poet who is recognisef as one of the premier craftsmen of early Modern English verse. In fact, he is often considered one of the greatest poets in the English language.

I hate the day, because it lendeth light To see all things, but not my love to see

The Faerie Queene was the first epic in English and one of the most influential poems in the language for later poets from Milton to Tennyson. Dedicating his work to Elizabeth I, Spenser brilliantly united medieval romance and renaissance epic to expound the glory of the Virgin Queen. The poem recounts the quests of knights including Sir Guyon, Knight of Constance, who resists temptation, and Artegall, Knight of Justice, whose story alludes to the execution of Mary Queen of Scots. Composed as an overt moral and political allegory, The Faerie Queene, with its dramatic episodes of chivalry, pageantry and courtly love, is also a supreme work of atmosphere, colour and sensuous description.

Her angel’s face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.

✍🏻 Dark Light

Pure White vs. Jet Black

darket-light

In the dead of a feverish night
He’s opposite me, sat bolt upright
My legs and lips drift slowly apart
The power of lust makes this a must
I close in and flick off the desk light
Side by side, we prepare for the fight

He’s white like a virgin’s bridal gown
Rays of blinding light do still shine down
The Son will consume Venus adown
Solar storms flair; I refuse to comedown
The sun breeds life… am I all alone?
Circumstance & sun have left me brown

Angel dust white, he’s just like cocaine
I go down to make him rise again
On my knees between his, it’s sublime
My tongue will endlessly entertain
Let me lick below, I’ll lay supine
This is the drug that relieves my brain

The moon gives us solace and nightglow
In it, poets pine and wine does flow
Must this munificence be hallow?
This lunarscape, despite our harrow?
Paradise lost, we’re nowt but shadow?
Lit by it, I bite on my pillow

Like heroin, you touch me down there
Shoot me up into the stratosphere
Hands to clasp what did the silk brassiere
Flip me over and lick everywhere
Deal harshly with my soft derrière
Be animalistic with no care

Eve oscillates as the knights draw in
Milk & Honey will put out this drought
Pull my hair as you push it all in
This is heaven; I have not one doubt
Hold me tightly and push it deep in
I want more, I want to pass right out.

Music when

soft voices die (to — J 💌)

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on

— Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Love Hurts

Our kiss, and then our kisses were beyond reason; they were really and truly utterly otherworldly

Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.

And why, why in the name of the devil, of god and James Dean does this have to be the fucking way? Are we so bloody damn stupid, so flippant when all’s roses? Why the fucking hell can’t we appreciate the priceless things whilst they’re within our grasp; why the fuck must we lose something to be able to realise its true value? Rosie Lee, you have my Strawberry tart, it will be with you until the day it ceases to beat. Period. Full stop. End of. Immutably so.

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Amoretti LXXV

“One Day I Wrote Her Name”

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

“Vain man,” said she, “that dost in vain assay,
A mortal thing so to immortalize;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out likewise.”

“Not so,” (quod I) “let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name:

Where whenas death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.”

— Edmund Spenser


p.s.
Roman Numerals
Roman numerals are the numbers that were used in ancient Rome, which employed combinations of letters from the Latin alphabet:
I — 1
V — 5
X — 10
L — 50
C — 100
D — 500
M — 1,000

Numbers are represented by putting the symbols into various combinations in different orders. The symbols are then added together, for example:
— I + I + I, written as III, is 3.
— To write 11 we add X (10) and I (1) and write XI.
— For 22 we add X and X and I and I, so XXII.

Roman numerals are usually written in order, from largest to smallest and from left to right, but more than three identical symbols never appear in a row. Instead, a system of subtraction is used. When a smaller number appears in front of a larger one, that needs to be subtracted, so:
IV is 4 (5 – 1)
IX is 9 (10 – 1)
The subtraction system is used in six cases:
— I is placed before V and X so, IV is 4 and IX is 9.
— X is placed before L (50) and C (100) so, XL is 40 and XC is 90.
— C is placed before D (500) and M (1000) so, CD is 400 and CM is 900.

So, “LXXV” equates to: 75.

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

— William Shakespeare

See too: ‘sOnly a sOnnet

‘Message in a bottle’

Save. Our. Soul.

Bottles out at sea
This one goes out…

A message in a bottle is a form of communication in which a message is sealed in a container (typically a bottle) and thrown into the sea.

Messages in bottles have been used to send (1) distress messages and/or to carry letters or reports from those believing themselves to be doomed (2), in scientific studies of ocean currents, as memorial tributes and (3), to send deceased loved ones’ ashes on a final journey.

Love letters have also been sent as messages in bottles. Indeed, the lore surrounding messages in bottles has often been of a romantic or poetic nature.

Nowadays, the phrase, message in a bottle, has expanded to include metaphorical uses (uses beyond its traditional and literal meaning). Say for example, sending an estranged lover an email begging for a reprieve whilst knowing a reply, let alone a reprieve is rather unlikely.

message in a bottle

Pioneer 10 plaque
…to the one I love.