Sonnet 147 – William Shakepeare

My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve, Desire his death, which... Continue Reading →

Writing Prompt: In the ward

I'm curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea and my laptop. I just got back from hospital having had some minor surgery. I'm fine, but they hit me with anesthetic and adrenalin during the procedure, so I'm a little wobbly. I think I have an evening in front of the TV to... Continue Reading →

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