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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/blanghinrichs/month/5-1-2021
Rated: 13+ · Book · Writing · #1625579
My writing blog
I don't have a muse, and never have. I'm afraid that if I did have one, she would be a small Chinese woman standing in the doorway, looking significantly at her watch every minute or so while I dug around in the sofa searching for enough loose change to pay for the chicken-fried rice. On the whole, I think I do better without her.
May 11, 2021 at 1:23pm
May 11, 2021 at 1:23pm
#1010022
I ran across Shakespeare's Sonnet 138 today, and was reminded of how much fun his double meanings are:

Sonnet 138

When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor’d youth,
Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress’d.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter’d be.



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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/blanghinrichs/month/5-1-2021