Shakespeare said it first. Or at least Don Paterson’s version of Shakespeare’s sonnet 102 did:
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming
The owner’s tongue doth publish everywhere.
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Shakespeare said it first. Or at least Don Paterson’s version of Shakespeare’s sonnet 102 did:
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming
The owner’s tongue doth publish everywhere.
'Oh now I have hit it,' said Don Quixote; 'thou wouldst say thou art so docile, tractable, and gentle that thou wilt take what I say to thee, and submit to what I teach thee.'
Except there are many Sancho-Panza Poets who won't.
They are arriving from all quarters, by mail, by email, by Facebook, by hand, in my sleep and waking. Can't keep up. Ever felt like that? Yep. I thought so.
Then you calm down a bit and one little line or so gets through with its calm, quiet voice and things are all right again.
The prose publication I seem to have been writing for the last six months (well I have, never mind seems) is finally done. How (Not) to Get Your Poetry Published.
Competitions are springing up all over the place. Competitions in competition with competitions.