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 Nov 2014 A
Dylan Thomas
O make me a mask and a wall to shut from your spies
Of the sharp, enamelled eyes and the spectacled claws
**** and rebellion in the nurseries of my face,
Gag of dumbstruck tree to block from bare enemies
The bayonet tongue in this undefended prayerpiece,
The present mouth, and the sweetly blown trumpet of lies,
Shaped in old armour and oak the countenance of a dunce
To shield the glistening brain and blunt the examiners,
And a tear-stained widower grief drooped from the lashes
To veil belladonna and let the dry eyes perceive
Others betray the lamenting lies of their losses
By the curve of the **** mouth or the laugh up the sleeve.
 Nov 2014 A
Mrs Ashley Somebody
Your love is algebra
I can't find the formula
If I could find the right calculator,
I could define your euphoria.

Your love is geometry
I can't find the angles
If I could prove your theories,
It wouldn't be a shambles.

Your love is trigonometry
I can't figure it out
If I spent an entire notebook, perhaps
I'd still have doubts.

Your love is a mystery
Just as the greatest math
Although worth much,
Seems irrelevant to my path.

— The End —