'Archaisms' yclept are;
To me, though, gladsome door ajar
Through which some breeze of former times
Breathes other ardours, distant climes:
A scent I relish mostly; though
I bid Avaunt! to stench of woe
And cruelty - long past's ill norm -
Which recenter thought, and reform,
Have girt their thews to boldly banish
(Would that all such sins would vanish!)
Gentler mores soothe, caressing,
And tenderly bless, impressing
That we - twenty-first our century -
March but late in the adventury
After virtue and its fruits -
Inheriting old sages' boots.
So mannerly like these to speak
I think respectful and not weak -
Though insincereful affectation
Bode no cheerful delectation!

This one's off to the funny papers!

As you said, RCL, I'm rhyming with the past, not repeating it.


On a Theme of Thomas Wyatt

She goes from me, who onetime did me touch
With fingers far more subtle than the dawn.
It was her wont to worry overmuch,
Whose curtains now are so securely drawn.
The heavens’ brightest star is fled and gone.
And gone is all but this fool moon and me,
Where it hath been the two of us were three.

Am I, perchance, the fool that doth await
So confidently on the coming day?
Oh, no, ‘twas not a mean and loveless hate
That made a thing a brilliance soon decay.
Your silver beams will tarnish and turn gray.
And then, O moon, the beauty that did flee
Will come again and far outshineth thee.

Well wrote.

Thank you, sir.

An hurrah for ye, sirrah, an’ huzzah. We do sail for Picardy at ha’ past three. Word up.

I'd thocht this was a neuwe Thredde,
Soe tooke frighte
When mine own piece
(Above) did gritte mine sighte.
But now, perseive I, this has been revived
After somme yeares were past;
Here, new-alived.
So I'll adde to these verses cast.

Averse to Verse

O! Save us, do, from poets: bane
Whose mannerisms rack my brain!
I find their posturings coy, vain
And maddening - for they’re insane,
Like many artists, and make bold
To cast our thoughts in their crazed mould!
Avant-garde usage - idiom old -
These quaint quirks, and worse, leave me cold:
Feigned witticisms, smugly wrought;
Grammar contorted (not as taught!);
Pained words - tormented as for sport -
Strained metaphors, similes fraught..
I would not, for my life, essay
To carry on that irksame way! *
I vow to speak as plain as day,
Sans cliché. Avaunt, Poesy, pray!



[* As I expect you realize - but for avoidance of doubt! -
'irksame' in L14 is no typo but a portmanteau word
deliberately contrived tongue-in-cheek .]

Averse to Verse

O! Save us, do, from poets: bane
Whose mannerisms rack my brain!
I find their posturings coy, vain
And maddening - for they’re insane,
Like many artists, and make bold
To cast our thoughts in their crazed mould!
Avant-garde usage - idiom old -
These quaint quirks, and worse, leave me cold:
Feigned witticisms, smugly wrought;
Grammar contorted (not as taught!);
Pained words - tormented as for sport -
Strained metaphors, similes fraught..
I would not, for my life, essay
To carry on that irksame way! *
I vow to speak as plain as day,
Sans cliché. Avaunt, Poesy, pray!



[* As I expect you realize - but for avoidance of doubt! -
'irksame' in L14 is no typo but a portmanteau word
deliberately contrived tongue-in-cheek .]

I wrote this for Spectator comp 3040 'Averse to verse' (March 2018).