Two poems.

Two poems. One poem by a ancient writer and another by a almost ancient writer.

A Poem by Coyote Poetry


Thomas Nashe words are true today as 400 years ago. The world will struggle. Struggle create strong people. We must be kind and assist the people in need.


A Litany in Time of Plague
Category: Writing and Poetry
     Thomas Nashe, a great Poet. Needs to be remembered.
His words as powerful as 400 years ago.


A Litany in Time of Plague.

Adieu, farewell, earth’s bliss;
This world uncertain is;
Fond are life’s lustful joys;
Death proves them all but toys;
None from his darts can fly;
I am sick, I must died.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Rich men, trust not in wealth,
Gold cannot buy you health;
Physic himself must fade.
All things to end are made,
The plague full swift goes by;
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Beauty is but a flower
Which wrinkle will devour;
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died young and fair;

Dust hath closed Helen’s eye.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Strength stoops unto the grave,
Worms feed on Hector brave;
Swords may not fight with fate,
Earth still holds open her gate.
“Come, come!” the bells do cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us.

Wit with his wantonness
Tasteth death bitterness;
Hell’s executioner
Hath no ears for to hear
What vain art can reply.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us.

Haste, therefore, each degree,
To welcome destiny;
Heaven is our heritage,
Earth but a player’s stage;
Mount we unto the sky.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us.

Thomas Nashe

Dreaming blond retro woman with a book sitting on a meadow

We must fall from the pinacle of love
my kind and sweet friend.

At the gate of paradise.
We can play the fool.
Can dance in the mist of sweet love and emotion.

Sweet young woman.
Condemn herself to be alone.

She sits with me on a bench by the Monterey bay.
Her baby in her arms.
We watched the waves dancing on the shoreline.

I read my poetry to her.
Her red hair flowing in the wind.
Her gentle blue eyes.

Leaves me helpless.
Her beauty abate me.
I allow her affiction to overtake her now.

Her breathtaking beauty.
Allow me to write
words of love and disappointment.
She is my broken hearted muse.

She ask me.
When the days are long and become weary.
What is our purpose?

She whisper love has left me abandon and alone.
Soft tears flow from her gentle blue eyes.

I tell her days are long.
Wine can be sweet.
Heartaches heal with time.

If we fall and don’t get up.
Death isn’t peace.
Will become only a excuse when we are alone
and another casualty in the emotion of love and hate.

I pick her up.
The three of us walk into the sea.
I tell her the sun rises from the east every morning.
Will fall into the sea in the evening.

We must not allow the havoc of a broken heart to
blind us from a beautiful day.

My exquiite beauty. Gives me a beautiful smile.
Hold my hand tighter.

Whisper I will try my Poet Friend.

20 Sept 2009