Thisness in the King James Bible

‘So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.’

~ 1 Corinthians 15:54

‘Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.’

~ Song of Solomon 8:7

‘The king’s daughter is all glorious within: her clothing is of wrought gold.’

~ Psalm 45:13

‘Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty: they shall behold the land that is very far off.’

~ Isaiah 33:17

‘And a man shall be as an hiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.’

~ Isaiah 32:2

This: Used to identify a specific person or thing close at hand or being indicated or experienced.

1. Always prefer the concrete word to the abstract.

2. Almost prefer the direct word to the circumlocution.

3. Generally, use transitive verbs, that strike their object; and use them in the active voice, eschewing the stationary passive.

Thisness in Sonnet XXXI 31

Thy bosom is endearéd with all hearts
Which I by lacking have supposéd dead:
And there reigns Love, and all Love’s loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buriéd.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye
As interest of the dead!—which now appear
But things removed, that hidden in thee lie.
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
—That due of many now is mine alone:
Their images I loved I view in thee,
And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.

This: Used to identify a specific person or thing close at hand or being indicated or experienced.

The Dance of Death

There it sat, an arachnid perched upon the Venus’s maw,
darkly brown, eight-legged and hailing from night’s Plutonian shore.

Six beady black eyes twitching and glistening with a paltry dream,
full of mischief and cunning, did this arachnid seem.

Ever so close to death did it like to dance, sitting above the Venus in a trance,
sitting with all its cleverness and snark, this devilish little shark.

The Venus released a pheromone, a fragrance that chilled the bone,
waiting to catch this arachnid liar, waiting for it to fall into its fryer.

The arachnid, too quick to be caught, ran across Venus like good sport;
Venus was too slow, too drowsy to play, but fought throughout this day.

Now the night has come in tempest, the arachnid grows restless,
the time to go has come and will not return with the dawning sun.

the devil is ringing

And the Venus is singing, the arachnid has slipped, stupidly, in a restless fit;
the Venus’ trap was sprung,

Thus the arachnid dances no longer, now its end Is no longer,
the hunger for Venus no longer,
the fun over, the friendship over, the end.

The ticking pace

Beware the ticking clock and hours it brings,
It takes away the day, it haunts our dreams.

Of a hickory smell, of a dickory chime,
the clock strikes twelve, the dream sublime.

Onward marches its hands around its face,
One two they go a steady pace.

Its time, sleep time, the hours ‘ave gone,
do not turn to past times ahead.

The Solar Domain of the Spinning Wheel

In the heart of our sun works a towering god to keep the fire brightly burning in the cold dark of space. She is a mythic figure, grandiose in her stature, powerful in her might, graceful in her poise, draped in liquid stone and crowned in a halo of time itself. Surrounding her is the great machine, which she works over to make sure our guiding star, our soul, never goes out. She keeps us warm, she keeps us fed, she keeps our seasons turning and our world alive for our stories to be read. For at the edges of the solar system, beyond the magnetic shield, are the langoliers, those that eat that which has passed and that which will come to be. They are after our history and will do anything to break in and devour our experiences away. But the towering god and her machine fuel the power keeping these celestial beasts at bay. It is a cosmic power that breathes life into existence, so we can breathe power into our faith that the sun will never go out, so help us Goddess.

Light has many applications.

‘A shady friend for torrid days’

A shady friend for torrid days
Is easier to find
Than one of higher temperature
For frigid hour of mind.

The vane a little to the east
Scares muslin souls away;
If broadcloth breasts are firmer
Than those of organdy,

Who is to blame? The weaver?
Ah! the bewildering thread!
The tapestries of paradise!
So notelessly are made!

~ Emily Dickinson
Impressively laced with dressmaker metaphors, this poem illustrates the difficulty of finding someone to lift you up on those dank days, yet there’s always someone around to bring you down on those warm ones.