About Poesy from Francis Bacon
Poesy, is a part of learning in measure of words for the most part restrained, but in all other points extremely licensed, and doth truly refer to the imagination—Advancement of Learning, Bk II.
History to his memory, poesy to his imagination, and philosophy to his reason—Advancement of Learning, Bk II.
In philosophy the mind is bound to things; in poesy it is released from that bond, and wanders forth, and feigns what it pleases. That this is so anyone may see, who seeks ever so simply and without subtlety into the origins of intellectual impressions—Intellectual Globe.
Welcome to Your Poetry
All poems remain copyright of the Poet. Be among the Baconian Poets and send yours to add.
Tribute to Master Bacon
That thou hast caged mine heart with sugared words,
Then thou alone ribs of steel shouldst lend;
But since the sky borrows of the earth and droops not,
This breath bloweth a trumpet, to thy sleeping ear.
Could I weep thy death from mine eyes,
Hide thee in smiles, and stay the winds that gods bloweth;
I shalt bow stubborn leaves to play when no breeze sighs,
And thy lips shalt let words go by, and language endeth.
Unfold thyself to me; cancel thy winking jewels,
Should they reveal these porches of death;
Conduct mine hands within thine whispery snooze,
To rip from Death’s creaky spine thy cobwebbed breathe.
Be calm good wind; blow not a word away
Lest my boasts behold man to subscribe in silence.
Season's Cheer
Colin Craig Wolfe
104 Linden Ave
Haddonfield NJ 08033
lecolin@yahoo.com
It'll be frost up the chimney this year,
my dear,
A burning of romance amazing
such loving,
Such passion, I'm abashed, my dear
How glibly our freezer is phrasing!
Let it out on the air, it'll waft through the town
and
Cloud up and ice up and come falling down
a forest of frost
For the hearth,
my dear,
Like our love can go - to the blazing!
Sonnet 8, Ave Avis
Copyright 1985 Zaras
zarasian@earthlink.net
Oh juicy bird of paradise,
So seasoned bright perfumed;
The swan doth her gliding,
While grace cloaks her plume.
You speak to me with the flutter of
your eyes,
And your brows so noble and wise;
How nature conspired your alary guise,
Ere peacocks envy and despise.
– look! look! my lovely one
Come hither close and hear;
My gust of verse in euphony,
Hope nestle in the bosom of your ear.
Alas my rhapsody and bird call,
Have served me to no avail;
With what shall I entice you,
Thee whom the angels hail?
What whistles are three I have not blown?
What honey blossoms grown?
The four winds bring a message,
From me your love has flown.
An Ode to Shakespeare
Copyright 2008
The Athanor
Bacon Dedication I
Copyright 2008
Crissy39_2000@yahoo.com
Thou has the wit of a wiseman
The intelligence most profound
How are we to know we stand on
Sound Ground?
History is in the making of man
Yet events dictate the domains to power
Here it lies for us to find our final hour
Bacon Dedication II
Copyright 2008
Crissy39_2000@yahoo.com
Master of speech and grammar
Thou quill doth tell tales of great honour
Seeketh the ignorant in the light
Of your lecture
That we may see illumination
Of your wisdom
Please pray lend me your ear
That I may not sleep
In perpetual darkness
Thou has linked the bridge
Of the ignorant
And the Abyss
Of the Unknown
Greatness becomes greatness
Greatness awarded to those
Whom shall seek
Rewardeth