Follow by Email

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Earl of Surrey: latest overdubbing of his sonnets

I am going to post these poems as I write them, because of the topicality of their subjects. I shall also only leave them up temporarily, during the composition process. I'm thinking of posting no more than 4 at any one time on the blog. And eventually they will all disappear. See here to check for poems from other days. Scroll back and find the other three... Also note the beginning of this sonnet exploration, Petrarch 3, is still for sale and is the featured post to the right of this column.


Very first drafty this one:



Like a policeman on leave this poem can’t
shake off its look: it’s partly another (the one on which
I rest my writing pad so I can’t read it anymore): the poem
with Alexander the Great no less in it, which itself alludes to Wyatt’s Psalms.

But I’m referring (look!) to Wyatt’s Penitential Sonnets,
the ones I did relating Wyatt’s concupiscence and peccability.
The students gravely turn these poems into notes and define those terms
while Wyatt dies in his mistress’s arms, punning away like a Victorian jokebook.  

 OR

Direct Rule:

Like a policeman on leave this poem can’t shake
off its look: it’s partly another poem (the one on which
I rest my writing pad so I can’t read it anymore): the poem
with Alexander the Great no less, which itself alludes to Wyatt’s Psalms.

But I’m referring (look!) to Wyatt’s Penitential Sonnets,
the ones I did, you know them, relating Wyatt’s concupiscence and peccability.
The students gravely turn these poems into notes and define those terms for us,
while Wyatt dies in his mistress’s arms, punning away like a Tudorbethan jokebook. 

Even putting it on Twitter won’t get Bo and Go or Fox and Dox
to RT it or DM. Trump’s bitter fruit (sour grapes) hang like outsider art
on the wailing wall of his mirrored pout. Some of these bastards
are going to need a footnote soon if we’re lucky , like Darius and Uriah.

(They wern’t ;lucky. Click here to access an account of Sheppard’s ‘eassethic justice’.
Then act it out all over the show like it’s a metaphor for real justice. 

oR


Direct Rule:

Like a policeman on leave this poem can’t shake
off its look: it’s partly another poem (the one on which
I rest my writing pad so I can’t read it anymore): the poem
with Alexander the Great no less, which itself alludes to Wyatt’s Psalms.

But I’m referring (look!) to Wyatt’s Penitential Sonnets,
the ones I did, you know them, relating Wyatt’s concupiscence and peccability.
The students gravely turn these poems into notes and define those terms for us,
while Wyatt dies in his mistress’s arms, punning away like a Tudorbethan jokebook. 

Even putting it on Twitter won’t get Bo and Go or Fox and Dox
to RT it or DM me. Trump’s bitter fruit hangs like fake outsider art
on the wailing wall of his mirrored pout. Some of these bastards
are going to need a footnote soon if we’re lucky, like Darius and Uriah.

They weren’t lucky. Click here to access Robert Sheppard’s ‘aesthetic justice’.
Then act it out all over the show like it’s a metaphor for real justice. 

Finished it enough to risk making a cup of tea:



Direct Rule:

Like a policeman on leave this poem can’t shake
off its look: it’s partly another poem (the one on which
I rest my writing pad so I can’t read it anymore): the poem
with Alexander the Great no less. It alludes to Wyatt’s Psalms.

But I’m referring (look!) to Wyatt’s Penitential Sonnets,
the ones I did, you know them, relating Wyatt’s concupiscence and peccability.
The students gravely turn these poems into notes and define those terms for us,
while Wyatt dies in his mistress’s arms, punning away like a Tudorbethan jokebook. 

Even putting it on Twitter won’t get Bo and Go or Fox and Dox
to RT it or DM me. Trump’s bitter fruit hangs like fake outsider art
on the wailing wall of his mirrored pout. Some of these bastards
are going to need a footnote (if we’re lucky) like Darius and Uriah.

They weren’t lucky. Click here  to access Robert Sheppard’s ‘aesthetic justice’.
Then act it out all over the show like it’s a metaphor for real justice. 

I didn't make that cuppa. I'm still here and here's the result of my continued presence:

Then a dedication:




Direct Rule: Huge Power and Sinful Sleep

for Charles Bernstein

Like a policeman on leave in Liverpool, this poem can’t shake
off its look: it’s partly another poem (the one on which
I rest my writing pad so I can’t read it anymore): the poem
with Alexander the Great no less. It refers to Wyatt’s Psalms.

But I’m alluding (look!) to Wyatt’s Penitential Sonnets, the ones I did,
you know them, relating Wyatt’s concupiscence and peccability.
The students gravely turn these poems into definitive notes, while Wyatt
dies in his mistress’s arms, punning away like a Tudorbethan jokebook. 

Even putting it on Twitter won’t get Bo and Go or Fox and Dox
to RT it or DM me. Trump’s bitter fruit hangs like fake outsider art
on the wailing wall of his mirrored pout. Some of these bastards
are going to need a footnote (if we’re lucky) like Darius and Uriah.

They weren’t lucky. Click here to access Sheppard’s ‘aesthetic justice’.
Then act it out all over the show like it’s a metaphor for real justice. 

Click here for the actual link to aesthetic justice. It is a thing. Or watch the video of Charles during which it becomes a thing!