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Speculum Tuscanismi

Since Galatea came in, and Tuscanism gan usurp,
Vanity above all: villainy next her, stateliness Empress
No man but minion, stout, lout, plain, swain, quoth a Lording:
No words but valorous, no works but womanish only.
For life Magnificoes, not a beck but glorious in show,
In deed most frivolous, not a look but Tuscanish always.
His cringing side neck, eyes glancing, fisnamy smirking,
With forefinger kiss, and brave embrace to the footward.
Large bellied Cod-pieced doublet, uncod-pieced half hose,
Straight to the dock like a shirt, and close to the britch like a diveling.
A little Apish flat couched fast to the pate like an oyster,
French camarick ruffs, deep with a whiteness starched to the purpose.
Every one A per se A, his terms and braveries in print,
Delicate in speech, quaint in array: conceited in all points,
In Courtly guiles a passing singular odd man,
For Gallants a brave Mirror, a Primrose of Honour,
A Diamond for nonce, a fellow peerless in England.
Not the like discourser for Tongue, and head to be found out,
Not the like resolute man for great and serious affairs,
Not the like Lynx to spy out secrets and privities of States,

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poem by Gabriel Harvey
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The Borough. Letter XVIII: The Poor And Their

Dwellings
YES! we've our Borough-vices, and I know
How far they spread, how rapidly they grow;
Yet think not virtue quits the busy place,
Nor charity, the virtues crown and grace.
'Our Poor, how feed we?'--To the most we give
A weekly dole, and at their homes they live; -
Others together dwell,--but when they come
To the low roof, they see a kind of home,
A social people whom they've ever known,
With their own thoughts, and manners like their

own.
At her old house, her dress, her air the same,
I see mine ancient Letter-loving dame:
'Learning, my child,' said she 'shall fame command;
Learning is better worth than house or land -
For houses perish, lands are gone and spent;
In learning then excel, for that's most excellent.'
'And what her learning?' 'Tis with awe to look

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poem by George Crabbe
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Little things in my past that I really thought were over and done with were still elements of the puzzle that weren't pieced together, and so she helped me do that.

quote by Marie Osmond
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To love thee Year by Year

434

To love thee Year by Year—
May less appear
Than sacrifice, and cease—
However, dear,
Forever might be short, I thought to show—
And so I pieced it, with a flower, now.

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Double Crossed

You have crossed me with a cross that double crossed me in my life.
Shut up im just a weakest link when winter came to wonder wheres wonder. Her soul couldnt rest in peace because of that piece that couldnt give her peace in her pieced heart

poem by Ernest Makuakua
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Walt Whitman

For erratic style he leads van,
Wildly, wayward Walt Whitman.

*Mathew Arnold saw fit to say that Longfellow was not
the National Poet of America, but we presume few believed
him; one of Longfellows grandest pieced the scene is laid in
Canada.

It is a tale of love divine;
Charming faithful Evangeline.

poem by James McIntyre
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Midnight Snack

There is a McFlurry of Movement. A creamy white smooth swirl.
Dotted with broken biscuits. Broken. Broken up chocolate.
He came home looking like chocolate.
Brown and beautiful.
I love his hands.
I don't like his hands.
When they are elsewhere. Across Oceans.
On strangers thighs.
We can be broken.
Broken.
And slowly pieced back together.

poem by Matisse WalkdenBrown
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Lonely I

Lonely I, lonely love you,
Lonely I, surrounded by nothing,
Lonely I, pieced and waiting,
Lonely I, cursed without you.

Lonely I, sit and think,
Lonely I, was before I met you,
Lonely I, hopeless still love you,
Lonely I, pain and nothing.

Lonely I, in the darkness,
Lonely I, with my tears,
Lonely I, sorrow and hate,
Lonely I, is this my fate?

poem by Skunkredhair Skunkie
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Relevance

It is much too big to contain it.
Relevance.
It connects to a point of view,
Making sense.
A pieced together relevance.
And changing it to convince,
An alternative provides more to give...
With a backing of defense.
For those accustomed to confusion,
Conflicts for them sit well.
But a relevance to what exists,
Clears the air where delusions...
Have been invited to dwell.
Bringing 'home' a relevance,
Invites communication.
And from that confusion is dispelled.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sleepless in suburbia

Sleepless in suburbia
~
quiet little thoughts
play out in a suburban town
hours pass by unnoticed
day becomes night
and thoughts continue
sounds of strangers passing
beyond the window
beyond the walls
traffic and daily life
a crescendo of noise
fills out the soundtrack
a handful of stories echo
into their own lives
pieced together not entirely
by a restless mind
sleepless and listening
sleepless and imagining
while suburbia is thriving

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poem by Matthew Holloway
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