Another poet whose poetry was circulated in manuscript form was John Donne (1572–1631). Donne was famous in his own day for his sermons, which are rhetorical masterpieces largely written when he was Dean of Saint Paul's in London. Today he is more famous as a poet who wrote complex, cryptic & erotic verse. In his youth, a contemporary wrote that he was 'a great visitor of Ladies, a great frequenter of Plays, a great writer of conceited Verses'. When he did marry, at age 29, it was in secret…

Another poet whose poetry was circulated in manuscript form was John Donne (1572–1631). Donne was famous in his own day for his sermons, which are rhetorical masterpieces largely written when he was Dean of Saint Paul's in London. Today he is more famous as a poet who wrote complex, cryptic & erotic verse. In his youth, a contemporary wrote that he was 'a great visitor of Ladies, a great frequenter of Plays, a great writer of conceited Verses'. When he did marry, at age 29, it was in secret…

"More than kisses, letters mingle souls." John Donne #AnAppealingPlan #21DayChallenge

"More than kisses, letters mingle souls." John Donne #AnAppealingPlan #21DayChallenge

An excerpt from "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" by John Donne.

An excerpt from "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" by John Donne.

Death by John Donne  http://www.annabelchaffer.com/search.php?search_query=tassel+bookmarks

Death by John Donne http://www.annabelchaffer.com/search.php?search_query=tassel+bookmarks

Champanhe com Torresmo by Cláudia Boechat: Rebola, rebola, rebola sim...

Champanhe com Torresmo by Cláudia Boechat: Rebola, rebola, rebola sim...

A lógica me diz que houve um dia em que o ser humano não tinha palavras. Qualquer comunicação era presumida. Apontávamos, talvez? Grunhíamos? Mostrávamos com a mão. Até o dia em que, imagino eu, após perder meia dúzia de companheiros de caça para os tigres dente-de-sabre, um dos nossos ancestra...

Sapiossexual, fosfeno, acídia, malaxofobia, ultracrepidanismo & outras

A lógica me diz que houve um dia em que o ser humano não tinha palavras. Qualquer comunicação era presumida. Apontávamos, talvez? Grunhíamos? Mostrávamos com a mão. Até o dia em que, imagino eu, após perder meia dúzia de companheiros de caça para os tigres dente-de-sabre, um dos nossos ancestra...

Pinterest
Search