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Daily Archives: March 18, 2015

On the Finding of Richard III’s Bones: A Poem – YOUR FAVOURITE POEM

Richard Buckley, the lead archaeologist on a project to identify the bones, told reporters that tests and research since the remains were discovered last September proved “beyond reasonable doubt” that the “individual exhumed” from a makeshift grave under the parking lot was “indeed Richard III, the last Plantagenet king of England.”

Enter BUCKLEY, solus

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this corpse of Richard;
And all the clouds that lay dully upon our land
In the deep bosom of the news cycle buried.
Now are our CVs bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised trowels and shovels hung up for monuments;
Our dull symposia changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful departmental meetings to delightful orgies.
Grim-visaged death hath smooth’d his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He lies peacefully in the University of Leicester
To the lascivious gapings of a muted press corps.
And I, that am but a simple archaeolgist,
Not made to court the desperate inquiries of a fevered public;
I, that am but a man, and want credit’s laurels
To strut before a mass of jealous associate professors;
He, that was curtail’d on the field of Bosworth,
Cheated of his young life by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish’d, sent before my time
Into this unbreathing dirt, spine so obviously twisted,
And I, so friendly and unassuming
That dogs rub against my pant leg as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of few discoveries,
Have no other delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy his wizened shadow in the ground
And descant on his own deformity:
And therefore, since I can finally prove an identity,
To entertain these fair well-spoken graduate students,
I am determined to prove a hero
And embrace the untrammeled triumph of these days.
Soil impactions have I studied, the Priory’s footprints measured,
By historical prophecies, rumours and dreams,
To set my brother Oxford and his sister Cambridge
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if Queen Catherine be as true and just
As I am wise, diligent and unassuming,
This day should Richard carefully be dug up,
About the prophecy, which says that ‘B’
Of Leakey’s heirs the finder shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
The BBC comes.

By Nicole Cliffe | February 4, 2013




Your voice from within. – Promote Yourself


There’s so many thoughts that go through your head’ you wish you could voice them instead.
So many things you want to say’ but you stay quiet’ and just walk away.
Your thoughts and wishes you want to speak out’ but you don’t you just want to walk out’ you want to be heard’ from the people you know’ but do they listen ‘ or is it just for show.
Its time to stand up’ and let your voice out’ take a chance’ and just speak out.
Your voice will be carried ‘ to the ones could hear’ they give you a wave’ and a good cheer.
Its time to be brave’ and to be strong’ let your voice be heard’ and do no wrong’ its good to speak out’ to one and all’ its time to be honest’ and not a fool.

Patricia Bourne WordPress 2014



The knight of immortal youth
at the age of fifty found his mind in his heart
and on July morning went out to capture
the right, the beautiful, the just.

Facing him a world of silly and arrogant giants,
he on his sad but brave Rocinante.
I know what it means to be longing for something,
but if your heart weighs only a pound and sixteen ounces,
there’s no sense, my Don, in fighting these senseless windmills.

But you are right, of course, Dulcinea is your woman,
the most beautiful in the world;
I’m sure you’ll shout this fact
at the face of street-traders;
but they’ll pull you down from your horse
and beat you up.
But you, the unbeatable knight of our curse,
will continue to glow behind the heavy iron visor
and Dulcinea will become even more beautiful.

Translated by Taner Baybars


“Hold Me in the Stained Grey Hybrid” – Promote Yourself


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