Poems by King Henry VIII

 

King Henry VIII

 

 

The Time of Youth is to be Spent

The time of youth is to be spent, But vice in it should be forfent. Pastimes there be, I note truly Which one may use and vice deny. And they be pleasant to God and man: Those should we covet when we can, As feats of arms, and such other Whereby activeness one may utter. Comparisons in them may lawfully be set, For, thereby, courage is surely out fet. Virtue it is, then, youth for to spend In good disports which it does fend.   Green Groweth the Holly   Green groweth the holly, so doth the ivy. Though winter blasts blow never so high, Green groweth the holly. As the holly groweth green     And never changeth hue, So I am, and ever hath been,     Unto my lady true.             Green groweth the holly, so doth the ivy.             Though winter blasts blow never so high,             Green groweth the holly. As the holly groweth green,     With ivy all alone, When flowerys cannot be seen     And green-wood leaves be gone,               Green groweth the holly, so doth the ivy.               Though winter blasts blow never so high,                 Green groweth the holly.                   Now unto my lady     Promise to her I make: From all other only     To her I me betake.                 Green groweth the holly, so doth the ivy.                 Though winter blasts blow never so high,                    Green groweth the holly.  Adieu, mine own lady,     Adieu, my specïal, Who hath my heart truly,     Be sure, and ever shall. Green groweth the holly, so doth the ivy. Though winter blasts blow never so high, Green groweth the holly.        Though that Men do Call it Dotage   Though that men do call it dotage, Who loveth not wanteth courage; And whosoever may love get, From Venus sure he must it fet, Or else from her which is her heir, And she to him must seem most fair. With eye and mind doth both agree. There is no boot: there must it be. The eye doth look and represent, But mind afformeth with full consent. Thus am I fixed without grudge: Mine eye with heart doth me so judge. Love maintaineth all noble courage. Who love disdaineth is all of the village: Such lovers—though they take pain— It were pity they should obtain, For often times where they do sue They hinder lovers that would be true. For whoso loveth should love but once. Change whoso will, I will be none.   Definitions: forfent=forbidden, fet=gained, fend=protect BIO:  King Henry VIII of England and Ireland (1491-1547)--bold, brash, and demanding-- was forced to marry his brother's widow, Catherine of Aragon. The marriage was not a happy one and produced only one child, Mary Tudor. Henry wanted a son who would succeed to the throne. After much violent debate, Henry broke away from the Holy Roman Catholic Church and divorced Catherine. His second wife, Anne Boleyn, gave birth to the future queen, Elizabeth, but was thereafter accused of adultery and beheaded. Henry's third wife, Jane Seymour, produced Edward VI, to Henry's great delight, and then died in 1551. Fourth wife, Anne of Cleves, was divorced. Fifth wife, Catherine Howard, was beheaded. Henry's sixth wife, Katherine Parr, survived Henry's death in 1547. One of Henry's hymns, O Lord, the Maker of all Things, can still be occasionally heard in English cathedrals.       



I Remember You

by Dawn Pisturino

 

I remember you:

Those violet eyes that any girl would envy;

The full lips curled into a boyish smile;

The long, tapered fingers and moist, warm hands.

Yes, I remember you,

For I loved you with all the romance

Of girlish dreams,

And whiled away the hours thinking only of you.

I lived for the simple touch of your hand

And sighed for a single kiss from your lips

And died for a kindly smile in those eyes,

O foolish dreamer that I was!

But my dream was more real to me than life itself,

And I hungered to wed dream to reality.

If you ever knew - or dared to know - my love for you,

It was not apparent in the course of time,

And O! how I wept the bitter tears of unrequited love --

That Great Enemy of adolescence which betrays the heart so well!

Yes, I remember you;

If you would but remember me as a simple child,

I would be happy.

 

July 29, 1986

"Rosemary for Remembrance"

 

BIO:  Dawn Pisturino's poems, limericks, short stories, and articles have appeared in/on Danse Macabre du Jour, Brooklyn Voice, Underneath the Juniper Tree, Working Writer, and several newspapers and anthologies. She currently resides in Arizona.



Holly's Blues

by Margaret Flint Suter

 

Better to go lightly on that page

It has shattered glass

Among the ruined grass.

 

Move along in quick time

Past the pain markers --

Crimson dripped on navy.

 

Go lightly past the sparkling gems

That mirror failure

In multi-faceted mockery.

 

Toast to trials, hold your glass high

Beneath the fire escape, a mask worn on each landing

A life re-made at every turn.

 

Go lightly down that avenue

Where Holly's hurt spread thick fingers

Into heartache and split the muscle open.

 

Wait in the rain

For a cat that must return

Call into the alleys along the dream street.

 

Lift the lids on all the dumpsters stinking of despair

All the while sniffing hope

Under the coffee grounds.

 

Listen for the voice

Of cat calling

In return to Holly's blues.

 

Listen as his voice fades

Beneath the storm

While Holly weeps.

 

Weeps among the alley ends

Until she crumples

Mean reds flaring around her basic black life.

 

Touch the color of Holly's blues

Feel her sorrow

In pulse of neon.

 

Rain sibilant

Against your ear

Hold Holly while she weeps.

 

©Copyright 2007-2014 Margaret Flint Suter. All Rights Reserved.

Based on the book Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote and the Hollywood film starring Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard.

Read more works by Margaret Flint Suter

"Bone Music"
Published in the November 2011 issue of Underneath the Juniper Tree.

"Sweetest Halloween"
Published in the October 2013 issue of Underneath the Juniper Tree

"Lavender and Lilac: 'Til Death Do Us Part"
Published in the December 2013 issue of Underneath the Juniper Tree

"Balthasar's Box"
Second Place winner, Poemeleon Poetry Journal

"Redemption Box"
Runner Up, Poemeleon Poetry Journal

 

Bio: Margaret Flint Suter served her country in the U.S. Navy as a cryptologic technician. She now serves up tantalizing stories and poems to her many readers -- both children and adults. A doting mother and grandmother, Suter embraces many worthy causes that contribute to the betterment of humanity.



THE TRAIL'S END - The Story of Bonnie and Clyde

 

written by gangster Bonnie Parker

 

THE TRAIL'S END

 

You've read the story of Jesse James

of how he lived and died.

If you're still in need

of something to read,

here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.

 

Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang.

I'm sure you all have read

how they rob and steal;

and those who squeal,

are usually found dying and dead.

 

There's lots of untruths to these write-ups.

They're not as ruthless as that.

Their nature is raw;

they hate all the law,

the stool pigeons, spotters, and rats.

 

They call them cold-blooded killers.

They say they are heartless and mean.

But I say this with pride

that I once knew Clyde,

when he was honest and upright and clean.

 

But the law fooled around;

kept taking him down,

and locking him up in a cell.

'Til he said to me:

'I'll never be free,

so I'll meet a few of them in hell."

 

The road was so dimly lighted

there were no highway signs to guide.

But they made up their minds;

if all roads were blind,

they wouldn't give up 'til they died.

 

The road gets dimmer and dimmer.

Sometimes you can hardly see.

But it's fight man to man

and do all you can,

for they know they can never be free.

 

From heartbreak some people have suffered.

From weariness some people have died.

But take it all in all;

Our troubles are small,

'til we get like Bonnie and Clyde.

 

If a policeman is killed in Dallas

and they have no clue or guide,

if they can't find a fiend,

they just wipe their slate clean

and hang it on Bonnie and Clyde.

 

There's two crimes committed in America

not accredited to the Barrow mob.

They had no hand;

in the kidnap demand,

nor the Kansas City Depot job.

 

A newsboy once said to his buddy:

'I wish old Clyde would get jumped.

In these awful hard times,

we'd make a few dimes,

if five or six cops would get bumped.'

 

The police haven't got the report yet

but Clyde called me up today.

He said, 'Don't start any fights;

we aren't working nights,

we're joining the NRA.'

 

From Irving to West Dallas viaduct

is known as the Great Divide,

where the women are kin,

and the men are men,

and they won't 'stool' on Bonnie and Clyde.

 

If they try to act like citizens

and rent them a nice little flat,

about the third night,

they're invited to fight,

by a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.

 

They don't think they're too smart or desperate,

they know that the law always wins.

They've been shot at before;

but they do not ignore

that death is the wages of sin.

 

Some day they'll go down together.

They'll bury them side by side.

To few it'll be grief,

to the law a relief,

but it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.

 

Bio:  Bonnie Parker was born on October 1, 1910 in Rowena, Texas. She met ex-con Clyde Barrow in January 1930 while working as a waitress. The pair instantly fell in love. Bonnie followed Clyde on a 21-month crime spree across Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Missouri, which ended in a deadly massacre at Gibsland, Louisiana on May 23, 1934. 

 

A Victorian Christmas

 

MY GIFT

 

What can I give Him

Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd,

I would give Him a lamb,

If I were a Wise Man,

I would do my part --

But what can I give Him,

Give my heart.

 

Christina Rossetti

 

CHRISTMAS BELLS

 

The time draws near the birth of Christ:

The moon is hid, the night is still;

The Christmas bells from hill to hill

Answer each other in the mist.

 

Four voices of four hamlets round,

From far and near, on mead and moor,

Swell out and fail, as if a door

Were shut between me and the sound;

 

Each voice four changes on the wind,

That now dilate, and now decrease;

Peace and good will, good will and peace;

Peace and good will to all mankind.

 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

 

A SONG FOR A CHRISTMAS TREE

 

Cold and wintry is the sky,

Bitter winds go whistling by,

Orchard boughs are bare and dry,

Yet here stands a faithful tree.

Household fairies kind and dear,

With loving magic none need fear,

Bade it rise and blossom here,

Little friends, for you and me.

 

Come and gather as they fall,

Shining gifts for great and small;

Santa Claus remembers all

When he comes with goodies piled.

Corn and candy, apples red,

Sugar horses, gingerbread,

Babies who are never fed,

Are handing here for every child.

 

Shake the boughs and down they come,

Better fruit than peach or plum,

'T is our little harvest home;

For though frosts the flowers kill,

Though birds depart and squirrels sleep,

Though snows may gather cold and deep,

Little folks their sunshine keep,

And mother-love makes summer still.

 

Gathered in a smiling ring,

Lightly dance and gaily sing,

Still at heart remembering

The sweet story all should know,

Of the little child whose birth

Has made this day throughout the earth

A festival for childish mirth,

Since the first Christmas long ago.

 

Louisa May Alcott

 

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!

Songs for Thanksgiving

 

Over the River and Through the Wood

 

Over the river, and through the wood,

To Grandfather's house we go;

The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh

Through the white and drifted snow.

 

Over the river, and through the wood,

Now Grandmother's cap I spy! --

Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?

Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

 

Lydia Maria Child, 1844

 

Praise God, from Whom all Blessings Flow

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him, all creatures here below;

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.

 

Thomas Ken, 1674

 

Now Thank We All Our God

 

Now thank we all our God, with heart and hands and voices,

Who wondrous things has done, in whom this world rejoices;

Who from our mothers' arms has blessed us on our way

With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.

 

Martin Rinkart, 1636

 

Come, Ye Thankful People, Come

 

Come, ye thankful people, come,

Raise the song of harvest home!

All is safely gathered in,

Ere the winter storms begin.

God, our Maker, doth provide

For our wants to be supplied;

Come to God's own temple come;

Raise the song of harvest home!

 

Henry Alford, 1844

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

 

Dawn Pisturino

 

(artwork by Currier and Ives)



The Screaming Skull and Other Poems

 

 

THE SCREAMING SKULL

 

by Dawn Pisturino

 

The skull screams when the moon is bright,

Warning of evil a-foot in the night,

Calling to phantoms hidden from sight,

Keeping them all at bay.

 

Shrieking aloud when the zombies fight,

It glows in the darkness, waking with fright,

Shivering children, crying for light,

Fearful 'til break of day.

 

High on a shelf, when the bats take flight,

The dead skull cries with all its might,

Disrupting dreams, however slight,

Sending them all away.

 

September 20, 2011

 

 

THE GHOST

 

by Dawn Pisturino

 

Creeping footfalls on the stair warn me that a ghost is there.

Shivering in my bed with fright, the door creaks open . . .

I TOLD YOU HE WAS REAL!

(good night)

 

January 5, 2012

 

 

THE FAIRIES

 

by Dawn Pisturino

 

Deep within the forest,

Inside a magic ring,

Fairy lads pluck at their harps

While fairy maidens sing.

Queen Mab, arrayed in starlight,

Sits upon her chair,

Plotting all the dirty tricks

No other folk would dare.

Last spring they stole poor Margaret,

Sound asleep in bed.

They laid her in the Irish Sea

With stones beneath her head.

The fishes kept close vigil,

Traditional at wakes.

"Too bad," remarked a hungry shark.

"A lovely corpse she makes!"

 

January 19, 2012

 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

 

 

 

All Poems Published on Danse Macabre du Jour, October 30, 2013.

All poems copyright 2011-2013 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.