Throwback Thursday: All That Glitters

Afoot upon a brand new continent,
Don Pedro, just sixteen, but prouder than
The peacocks strolling his estate, had spent
Less than a day before he'd found his man.
That man had promised, via grunts and signs
To lead our Pedro to the secret site
Where could be found the metal forming lines
And clustered patterns on his breast plate, bright
And yellow. It took weeks to get there, through
Rank jungles, deadly insects, rivers full
Of tiny, hungry devils, but 'twas true:
His treasure was abundant. Then the wool
Came off his eyes when shipmates saw his haul:
His men had died for pyrite, one and all.

Throwback Thursday: The Most Famous Sonnetations

When William fell in love, and love again,

He found his feelings weren't requited, quite.

The lady dark, he'd never see again;

The lovely boy avoided him for spite.

But in imagination, both of them,

Enraptured by his ev'ry honeyed word

Responded warmly to his charméd pen,

In such a way as all of us have heard

Who've drunk with him. Indeed, we've heard enough.

We want to tell him, man, just stick to plays.

Your wife and son have really got it rough

Just as things are. Your wand'ring eye and ways

Are getting old. Nobody wants to read

Your whiny poems, which fulfil no need!

Dog Week: Throwback Thursday: His Weakness, Our Strength; Or, the Case of the Baleful Ball

Jack Rottbador, the loyal guardian to
The little Queen of Scots, while she, in France
Endured attacks from ev'rywhere, came through
Most specially when somehow, by some chance
Wee Mary showed up with a pomander
Of brilliant hue and sweet and sickly scent.
She loved it so, she kept it close to her
At all times, so its perfume'd soon be spent.
No one could make her give it up. And when
Just days since she'd received it, she grew pale
And listless, she clung to it more. There'd been
A panic; she'd been poisoned! How? The wail
Fell on deaf canine ears. He saw the ball,
Then snatched, then lost it near the palace wall!

Throwback Thursday: A Secret Disclosed

In Salzburg one grave doesn't quite contain
The man it claims. Old Theophrastus, he
Whom we called Paracelcus, in the main
Cared nothing for our rules. He came to be
Immortal, and in just the way you think:
Through sublimation, transmutation, lead,
Through fire and smoke and water and a stink
That killed migrating wildfowl overhead.
Success was his, and so he had to fake
His sad demise. His name, too, was let die.
Restored to youth and vigor, he did make
Discoveries galore, but then this guy
Gave others credit. Now, though, he has fame
Again. Fox Mulder is his present name.