Febris poems on Hello Poetry

John Donne

Since I am coming to that holy room,
Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore,
I shall be made thy music; as I come
I tune the instrument here at the door,
And what I must do then, think here before.

Whilst my physicians by their love are grown
Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie
Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown
That this is my south-west discovery,
Per fretum febris, by these straits to die,

I joy, that in these straits I see my west;
For, though their currents yield return to none,
What shall my west hurt me? As west and east
In all flat maps (and I am one) are one,
So death doth touch the resurrection.

Is the Pacific Sea my home? Or are
The eastern riches? Is Jerusalem?
Anyan, and Magellan, and Gibraltar,
All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them,
Whether where Japhet dwelt, or Cham, or Shem.

We think that Paradise and Calvary,
Christ's cross, and Adam's tree, stood in one place;
Look, Lord, and find both Adams met in me;
As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face,
May the last Adam's blood my soul embrace.

So, in his purple wrapp'd, receive me, Lord;
By these his thorns, give me his other crown;
And as to others' souls I preach'd thy word,
Be this my text, my sermon to mine own:
"Therefore that he may raise, the. Lord throws down."

John Donne

Hym To God, My God In My Sickness

Since I am coming to that holy room,
         Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore,
     I shall be made thy music; as I come
         I tune the instrument here at the door,
         And what I must do then, think here before.

     Whilst my physicians by their love are grown
         Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie
     Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown
         That this is my south-west discovery,
       [lang l]Per fretum febris[lang e], by these straits to die,

pmdv3 n="33-11">   I joy, that in these straits I see my west;
       For, though their currents yield return to none,
   What shall my west hurt me? As west and east
       In all flat maps (and I am one) are one,
       So death doth touch the resurrection.

   Is the Pacific Sea my home? Or are
       The eastern riches? Is Jerusalem?
   Anyan, and Magellan, and Gibraltar,
       All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them,
       Whether where Japhet dwelt, or Cham, or Shem.

   We think that Paradise and Calvary,
       Christ's cross, and Adam's tree, stood in one place;
   Look, Lord, and find both Adams met in me;
       As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face,
       May the last Adam's blood my soul embrace.

   So, in his purple wrapp'd, receive me, Lord;
       By these his thorns, give me his other crown;
   And as to others' souls I preach'd thy word,
       Be this my text, my sermon to mine own:
   "Therefore that he may raise, the Lord throws down."

Judith Oct 3

powerful as the gods but as fleeting and destructive as a storm.

I crave his fingertips tracing me like a mosaic painting. His dark eyes yanking my soul closer. I want to be his Aphrodite. I want him to sacrifice himself for my love. I want him to be breathless without me, I want to be his reason for life. I am his Muse. His inspiration. I am his Fates and only I can wield the knife choosing his destiny. I want to hold his soul in my Hands. I want only thoughts of me to Echo in his mind. His love stronger then Hercules. I want to be his Achilles Heel. My kiss as electric as Zeus lighting. I want to be his everything. I want him to suffer as I have. I want to plague his soul as Febris has plagued mine. A sickening fever rising in me. He changes, switching faces. Loving me in the spring allowing my garden to bloom as beautiful as Ophradites. Only to go back to his original form, leaving me in a decaying winter. I am left shivering, begging for spring to return. I watch his eyes, the fire dying. His heart Slowly turning into stone. I fall to my knees. My soul crying for help as the cold stone replaces the hot blood in my veins. I am corroding. I stare into his Medusa eyes one last time. Praying for even the slightest spark.

— The End —