The sonnet sequence, "My Human Disguise," of 600 ekphrastic poems, was begun February 2011 and completed January 15, 2022. It can be found beginning with the January 20, 2022 post and working backwards. Going forward are 20 poems called "Terzata," beginning on January 27, 2022. Thirty more Terzata can be found among the links on the right. A new series of dramatic monologues follows on the blog roll, followed by a series of formal poems, each based on a single word.
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Thursday, August 25, 2016
Death and the Miser (Bosch), Sonnet #312
There is one bastard that Death doesn't want -- A man He's content to smilingly haunt, To gesture that He hasn't forgotten What comes. "Maybe when your mind's most rotten," He whispers from behind the sickroom door. The man, a murdering conquistador, And raper of the widows of the poor, Cut a priest's throat to settle an old score, And sold babies to feed the king's prize boar. Delectable crimes for Death -- no reason Not to take this human in his season. His disgust was with the miser's grasping Love of His own hot and eternal sting, Leaving death for no other living thing.
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