Mucho Gracias
The weekend now past hath been life's finest.
Though poor in sleep and physical spirit,
My tongue hath seldom seen such easy speech,
Nor that my mind, such painless a discourse
Nor that my heart, such sweet and soothing balm
That were to remedy bitter scars there.
Never hath one spoke the easy marraige
Of wit and concern, of spirited speech
and open frankness.
Of care and concern.
I thank thee much, for thy time and person,
May that they always grow, never worsen.
But no more on that,
tis shall be pursued
at better time and place, and discretion.
with lesser of what there is so much here.
Though sleep and other side tracks assail me oft,
tis is one matter infinitely dear,
to which i hope see mature in future
none too distant.
Nay, i'd much see such birth on the morrow,
but something insinuios binds me back,
to this meandering, lost direction.
Fie! O Fie! Cursed confused fool that is I.
Well.... that should give Shakespeare something to roll over in his grave in... erg, too much hamlet.
Anyways, i'll save all of you from head aches by writing the rest in prose. I gues iambic pantermeter isnt' everyone's cup of tea. Cts are over so school is now the tensed stretched wire upon which tension is ever so slowly increased before finally snapping. The nail biting void of time betwen the exam's end and the release of the results prove to be a terribly and unecessarily stresfful on, to which fools pull hair and strings. Bought a concord chocolate cake for nicola, much loved bitching partner, on the account of hre birthday today... once again, here's to many many more of whatever we have.
My spleen runs dry and my keyboard quietens.
The weekend now past hath been life's finest.
Though poor in sleep and physical spirit,
My tongue hath seldom seen such easy speech,
Nor that my mind, such painless a discourse
Nor that my heart, such sweet and soothing balm
That were to remedy bitter scars there.
Never hath one spoke the easy marraige
Of wit and concern, of spirited speech
and open frankness.
Of care and concern.
I thank thee much, for thy time and person,
May that they always grow, never worsen.
But no more on that,
tis shall be pursued
at better time and place, and discretion.
with lesser of what there is so much here.
Though sleep and other side tracks assail me oft,
tis is one matter infinitely dear,
to which i hope see mature in future
none too distant.
Nay, i'd much see such birth on the morrow,
but something insinuios binds me back,
to this meandering, lost direction.
Fie! O Fie! Cursed confused fool that is I.
Well.... that should give Shakespeare something to roll over in his grave in... erg, too much hamlet.
Anyways, i'll save all of you from head aches by writing the rest in prose. I gues iambic pantermeter isnt' everyone's cup of tea. Cts are over so school is now the tensed stretched wire upon which tension is ever so slowly increased before finally snapping. The nail biting void of time betwen the exam's end and the release of the results prove to be a terribly and unecessarily stresfful on, to which fools pull hair and strings. Bought a concord chocolate cake for nicola, much loved bitching partner, on the account of hre birthday today... once again, here's to many many more of whatever we have.
My spleen runs dry and my keyboard quietens.