Comic Mom

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Why Is Mommy Grimacing?!?
That must be what Caleb and Micah were thinking as they sat at Cardio Barre this morning, as I was trying to make it through leg lifts. Micah usually accompanies me, but this morning Micah and Caleb went with me. It's no secret that I absolutely love this class, despite the occasional grimace. :)

Although all the teachers that I've had there have been good, Richard is my favorite, partly because he is a guy and partly because he pushes us so very hard. He manages to say things that apply not only to exercise, but to life in general. So, with your ballet-based workout, you hear such things as "The purpose in life is for life to have purpose." In one class, a few months ago, he talked about what a tough town L.A. is and how that you have to be really strong to make it here. His classes focus not only on physical strength but on mental strength. Sure, it's not quite the Sunday morning church service that I grew up with, and still attend when we're in North Carolina, but it's certainly inspirational. And somehow, even though Cardio Barre seems unrelated, I really think that it helps my comedy and writing.

And this final note on Richard: He's one of the few people, doctors included, who knows how to tell people to "lie down." So many people, doctors included, say "lay down" when they're asking you to lie down. This grammatical error tends to drive me crazy! :)

Here's a picture of Micah and me, taken on his birthday earlier this year, after a Cardio-Barre class.

Once Again . . .
The last time that we were kicked out of a group of busybody moms who have little better to do than act like they're still in eighth grade, they lied about me. One specific lie was that someone in that group gave us a train table; in reality, I paid $30 for it--cash. This time, there were also some blatent lies told about me. You think I'd learn. :)

I don't know whether to write more about this situation and address these lies or to let a sleeping dog lie, so to speak. I need to do some thinking about it. But I am quite grateful that the truth about some or all of these folks came out. There is a part of me, of course, that really regrets inviting some of these people to my house. Some of them may have even peed in my toilet. I trusted them a bit too much. Well, I've learned to be a bit more careful these days about the people that I let in to my house. And for that lesson, I am indeed thankful.

Fortunately, I have real friends, among them: a very wonderful Mr. Comic Mom and our three wonderful sons, who love me no matter what and these friends and my family were there for me today--Thanks! I've said it before and I'll say it again: I LOVE my children and I love being a mother, but I can't stand most other moms. When I trust people who aren't trustworthy, as we did in this group, the "other moms" that I can't stand increase greatly and I end up distancing myself from even more mothers. I certainly will be much more careful about whom I trust from now on. We've only been a part of this group for less than a year; so, I'm very, very thankful that we didn't invest more time with these bearers of false witness. I don't know how many in the group were actually bearers and gossipers; perhaps not all of them were, but it doesn't really matter: I'm thankful that we're out!

You know, it's funny how I absolutely love being a mom, but didn't realize that so many of these so-called mommy groups are really cliques left over from eighth grade. There's as much exclusion going on in some of these groups as there is at a country club. The woman that I babysat for in Raleigh told me once that a lot of these stay-at-home type moms were not working for the first time and they throw all their working energy into the stay-at-home stuff. I'm finding her words to be extremely true: These moms who find themselves idle seem to have way too much time on their hands. They use that time, often, to act like eighth graders. When people ask me how I do so much (although I really don't do that much :) with comedy and writing, I do so much because I don't gossip with moms all day, trying to figure out whom I like and whom I don't or trying to figure out which theory du jour to use on my child or lying about people. My time is spent with my husband, my children, my home, and my work. Conversations that I have with true friends don't usually include much gossip and I don't spend time trying to oust people from anything; I also give people the benefit of the doubt and I confront people that I have questions about. I notice that my working mommy friends, especially my single mom friend in North Carolina, don't have time for all this cliquish crap that goes, often, with being in a mommy group. But those who have too much time on their hands as mothers seem not to use it wisely. There's a part of me, of course, that seeing freedoms almost fly down the toilet and wondering why these moms are busy gossiping and excluding instead of writing letters, for instance, against the Real I.D. Somehow time-wasting, cliquish mothers don't seem to be what our Founding Fathers were fighting for, nor the suffregettes.

Time wasting seems to be what happened in this particular group and it's a real shame. Mr. Comic Mom can't believe what I have to go through during the day, not with my children, but with other moms. He's awfully glad to have a job and with groups like the one that most recently gave us the proverbial boot, I can see why he likes being away from this crap.

Give me a group of comics over a group of moms any day.

Here's a picture of me and the boys at the Mother's Day brunch:

Three Things
First, many thanks to Jess for saying that I look hot in my t-shirt. :)

Second, it's wonderful to be sitting here writing while Mr. Comic Mom reads to the boys before bedtime. Simply wonderful. I'm very thankful for my life; I am blessed and fortunate indeed.

Third, I probably won't be able to write anything about the Chinese earthquake that hasn't been said. It's a horrid tragedy and thinking about families that lost their only progeny is sickening indeed. The oppressive government of China has helped many people lose the one child that they could have penalty free. It's extremely sad that most Chinese government schools were poorly built (or as I like to say with any government school: that they were built at all) and that many parents and grandparents fared better than their only child and grandchild. The sadness of that situation is a more intense sadness than I ever hope to know; those people are in my thoughts and prayers, as are the people at our church last year who lost a child and grandchild. Losing a child is something that no parent ever wants to do. Perhaps this tragedy will spur some to make the Chinese government change the one-child policy and stop exporting infant girls to the U.S. and other western countries. Doubtful, I know, but one never knows.

Here's my question: Those who can't have their own children in the U.S. are fully commended by the $1.6 billion U.S. adoption industry for taking children from China; some of these adoptees, no doubt, have siblings that were killed in the earthquake. So, are Americans willing to give back to China? To give their child back so that those who lost their only child in the earthquake may have a child to raise? I couldn't help but notice as I was checking out at Target the other day that Angelina Jolie is expecting twin girls. As many children as she's taken from their family and country, I can't help but wonder if she'd be willing to give away one of those girls soon after it's born to a Chinese family who has lost a child in the earthquake. Wouldn't that be only fair? After all, that's what adopters and social wreckers tell the mothers who child they take, that the mom can always have another child. Well, Angelina Jolie now will have two, if all goes well. So, couldn't she just give one to a mourning Chinese couple?

Mommy T-Shirts
I plan to say more about this later, but I did a show in Camarillo Friday night and another comic, Lizette Mizelle, had these gorgeous t-shirts for sale:

Sure, we're still catching up from Mr. Comic Mom's foray into unemployment, but I had $15 and I bought this t-shirt. It seems to have brought me nothing but good luck since then. Maybe we should call it the magical Moms Rock t-shirt. :)

Happy Mother's Day!
As the helicopter hovers, we are just returning home from a gorgeous day at the beach, in Malibu, and at The Inn of the Seventh Ray, my favorite Mother's Day hippie restaurant. Being a favorite hippie restaurant in Topanga Canyon, where hippie restaurants are as numerous as tadpoles in the creek at Inn of the Seventh Ray, is quite an honor. That journey, which provided the most politically correct meal that I eat all year, unearthed a surprised Gretchen as she walked out of the bathroom. Of course, I took a picture, which I hope to post later. We hadn't seen Gretchen, our Gymboree teacher, since she had her baby last October. It was great to see her and to see her husband, Paul, whom we'd met a few years ago at a comedy show at the Sportsmen's Lodge. When people come to Los Angeles from other places (Gretchen and Paul are from Kansas), they are often nice. Gretchen and Paul are wonderfully nice and I'm very happy that Gretchen, who is so talented that she can make a fire engine out of an old egg carton (we have the product of that wonderful craft at our house) should, in my humble opinion, start a business out of her craft classes. She could coordinate craft classes for children or even for adults. Wow, I'm thinking that the homeschooling market would be huge for this, but then again, who knows?

These three women sat beside us, a mom and her two daughters, and they were commenting on how well-behaved the boys were. Well, there are those moments, of course, when the boys are at their best and I'm thankful that this one occurred on Mother's Day, at a restaurant. One of the daughters wants to take an Improv class (only in L.A.!) and I also told them about Canoga Park and about The Penis Game and they seemed as though they'd like to come and play sometime.

I don't take Mother's Day lightly. There are so many women who want to be mothers but who are not and I hope that those who want to conceive a child but are not yet mothers will have a baby by next Mother's Day. Once you give birth and become a member of the mommy club, life is never the same. I am so extremely thankful that I am a member of this particular club.

Sex and the City, the movie, is coming out soon. We saw this billboard for it the day of the sperm spinning, right across from the doctor's office:

A New Mop
I have been fantasizing about a new mop and today, while on an errand to buy a birthday present at Target, I found one. It's "Made in China," of course. There's hardly anything in Target that isn't. In fact, I'd buy something I really didn't need in Target if it was made in the U.S.A. Nonetheless, my mop is absolutely fantastic. I just mopped the floor of the green bathroom with it. My floors feel cleaner than they have in a long time, even though I've recently mopped. I think it is this new mop, which absolutely rocks.

Mr. Comic Mom, holding his sperm and probably wondering why I'm taking a picture:

Sperm Bank or Comedy Contest?
Well, I'll have to say that the sperm bank thing was certainly more interesting and less comfortable. But then again, how many people do the artificial insemination thing and a comedy contest in one day? And we went, with a homeschooling group, to Bottle Village, a bizarre mix of glass and cement that a woman started when she was 60. The original artist has been dead for a few years, but a woman who knows everything, and I do mean everything, about the original artist, Grandma Priesby, gave us a tour. It was quite a treat.

But now, here are Rebekah, Dante, Mark Fernandez, and Monte Hoffman. Dante's explaining the rules and everybody else is listening. Well, sort of listening:

Sara and Anthony just got engaged. Isn't that exciting? Sara used to do a comedy show on Monday night that I absolutely loved; I did it while I was pregnant with Jadon. She also used to work at the 50's cafe, so the boys got to meet her and they absolutely think she rocks. So do I!

My Life Right Now: A Sperm Bank of Fun
Mr. Comic Mom is doing a bit of sperm spinning right now. Or rather, shall I say that his sperm are spinning right now. I just talked to him. He had to be in Beverly Hills this morning at 7 a.m. to donate some sperm to me. Basically, I'm going to be artificially inseminated soon. Or that's the plan, anyway. Who says I'm not a real lesbian. :)

Before I tell the Drunk Stalker guy story from last night's Canoga Park Bowl, and I do plan to tell it, here are some pictures from a few days ago. Jadon fell in love with this "bike" as he calls it at the Europa Bike Shop, which is moving soon after 22 years in business. The formerly $125 bike was offered to us, by the wonderful owners, for only $30. I immediately handed the lady my cash. We'd seen Jadon's new bike once when we bought Caleb's bike but we already have a tricycle, although not with a handle, and it was out of our price range. What a blessing that we happened to be in the right place at the right time:

Oops!
I've forgotten to blog for a few days. :)

http://www.lewrockwell.com/shore/shore16.html

Read my latest article about guns: I'm for 'em, by the way.

Next week is Penis Game Week, with a kickoff at the Canoga Park Bowl this Monday, May 5th. If you're in SoCal, come play The Penis Game!

A cool basketball goal, kid-sized, at a West Hollywood Park:

Advice for Writers
Saith Micah: "You just have to take your pink book and write down everything that everybody says!"

In other news, I'm choosing to play The Yes Game again, saying "yes" to everything, at least at first, isn't easy.

Who Cares About Your DNA?
Read my latest LRC article:

http://www.lewrockwell.com/shore/shore15.html

And for Crunchy Mama, more about the Yes Game should be coming soon. Please remind me if I don't get to it!

The Zapata Pinata Comedy Czar
It's a real shame, but I'm thankful that it happened now. I like to know when there is a Comedy Czar in the house so that I can stay away from those particular houses. Shall I be overly polite when somebody writes me an e-mail and tells me that even though my children were "well-behaved," according to her analysis, that they are no longer welcome at Zapata Pinata, not by the restaurant, which made $28 off our family, but by the Comedy Czar herself. To be fair, I heard about the show through her sweet and devoted assistant who, to his credit, has a penis. I've found, and this will seem anti-woman, that humans with penises tend to have much more sense, often, than those without. I'm not saying I'm glad it's that way, just that I've noticed that it is.

Anyway, the Comedy Czar has decided that she'd rather please a few non-eating comics who supposedly complained about my children being in the audience than to make money for the restaurant. I can't help but wonder how the restaurant would react to hearing such news.

Here's what I mean about women being dumb sometimes: This woman would rather have comics make jokes that aren't funny yet use the f-word than to have comics that can perform without being a potty mouth, and aren't afraid to perform in front of children. I'm reminded here of the time a couple of months ago that my children, bless their hearts, were forced by time and circumstances to go to Celeste Donohue and Willie Bingo's show at the Amsterdam Cafe. Celeste, like any sane child-free comedy show host, was thrown at first by the appearance of my babies. But, if I must say so myself, the boys behaved as well at that show as they did on Easter Sunday 2007 when we had driven four days across the country and yet they sat right through preaching, which included a canata on that particular Sunday, like young gentlemen. I was thrilled. Celeste was thrilled. So thrilled was she, in fact, that she gave them a copy of Hairspray that she usually gives to an adult audience member. Celeste, unlike many women, knows a paying audience member when she sees one (or three).

Comedy Czar, however, wants her own little comedy fiefdom. Let her have it. I totally support her right to fief! But I can't help but wonder how smart what she's doing is economically. The audience for family comedy is huge--and she's driving it away.

I wonder what will happen with Zapata Pinata--What restaurant wants to host a comedy show when the show's producer drives away paying audience members?

Happy Non-Earth Day!
So, how do I write an Anti-Earth Day entry? What would that even look like? I guess it's a good start that I'm writing it the day after Earth Day. Hmmm. Sam, homeschooling dad of Noah, and I were discussing what a contrarian view to Earth Day would look like yesterday as our homeschooling group hiked in Topanga State Park, which is due to close under the government's budget cuts. I realize, of course, that the way I should act according to Earth Day is to wish that our taxes were even higher so that the state of California could grab even more land. But I couldn't help but think how much I dislike the state government's land grabs (and for that matter, the federal and county) when I tried to pay $5, which was the parking fee. I only had a $20. There was no way to make change. I didn't want to get a ticket, although I was unsure of how they checked on that kind of thing. And the officers asked us to go to the ranger house. No one had changed. Sam and Noah, who had waited patiently for us and were going to lead us down the windy curves of the mountains and back to Topanga Canyon Road, let us borrow four one-dollar bills and I provided another dollar in change and I left the money in a slot, as I was supposed to do. But it wasn't easy. How much better would that park be run if it was privately held. Those state employees seemed unconcerned with money, and yet, they would have probably given me a ticket quite easily if I hadn't paid. It's weird the way that governmental jobs often ruin a worker's common sense with money. Government jobs are all about making rules, not making money.

With that bit of news, Happy Non-Earth Day!

And for those who think that I'm all for trashing the earth, well, do you have a compost pile and grow vegetables? We do.

420 Day
There's a lot of stuff that I'm trying here to write quickly because Caleb is hungry. Not that he didn't just eat, of course, but a boy who's grown an inch and a half since December; he doesn't go long without food.

Break for Caleb's food, with everyone else joining in.

For those not "hip to it," and according to fabulous KLOS d.j. Jim Ladd, "You're either hip to it or you're not," today is the day that California stoners and others celebrate the passage of S.B. 420 a few years ago. This wonderful bill allows "medical marijuana" to be legal, up to a certain amount, in California. The aptly-named Drug Enforcement Agency, which keeps the drug trade going around the world, can't stand the competition. They try at every turn to close down pot stores, a.k.a. dispensaries, in marijuana vernacular. I've met some people at these pot stores and they are really nice. Usually, they are good business people as well. I was supposed to do some comedy for one of the pot stores this past Christmas, but the venue fell through. Anyway, I think, for the record, that the illegality of marijuana is one of the most idiotic things ever to occur in law, and that's saying a lot. I'm saying that not just because of articles such as this one, which clearly state the benefits of marijuana.

I think it is wrong to make a natural plant illegal. We're not talking about breweries here, or meth labs. We're talking about a plant that God gave us and man has made illegal. What will happen when Monsanto, who recently received a patent for pigs, makes growing tomatoes illegal? It could easily happen. And with not such a slippery slope.

Even though I think that marijuana should be completely legal, with no strings attached, it is certainly wonderful that people here who really need it, and those who don't, may partake of it legally. Now, if the DEA would only stop spending your taxpayer money to defy California law.

Now, back to feeding the always hungry. :)

More About Mr. Comic Mom's Mom
When she died a little over two years ago, I wasn't exactly on great terms with Mr. Comic Mom's Mom (MCMM). Jadon had just been born and I feel extremely guilty about telling her no when she offered to stay with us for a week and help out. Those were the days before The Yes Game. I assumed that whatever problems we had would be worked out over the next twenty or thirty years. I assumed that when MCMM died, life would be very different because I'd be something like 60 or 70. That would give me time, I must have thought, to come up with brilliant ideas such as The Yes Game (not really my idea, but still . . . ) or to work out all my crap so that I would be able to show more respect toward my mother and mother-in-law. Little did I know that the last conversation we had with her would be one in which my husband and the boys talked to her but I didn't because we were on our way to Lucy's LaundryMart for a comedy show and I was sure--just positive--that I would have lots of other chances to talk with MCMM. I used to think that things didn't end.

Actually, that last sentence may be untrue. I know that things end; I just don't want to face that bitter fact sometimes. But when you have children, you must face reality, which is why it's so very comforting to escape that reality from time to time. When a child goes from crawling to walking, something has ended, just as surely as when a child goes to college. But something has also begun.

A lot has ended for me in the past ten or so years, including life as a non-mother. I am thankful for its end, although sometimes, there is a somewhat bittersweet feeling about the loss of me as a non-mother, as trivial as that seems and as anxious as I was to have a husband and child. And as thankful as I am to have a wonderful husband and three wonderful children. I remember the girl that I had grown to be, sans children, and I can no longer write a poem from thinking about possibly becoming a mother one day. No, any poems now have to be written from the perspective of a mom, even if the speaker is not a mom. I remember some dumbass writing job that someone was talking with me about last year. I say "dumbass," of course, only because I didn't get it. But the woman who didn't hire me very much didn't hire because I was a mom. She told me that. She feared that I wrote too much from a mom's perspective. Well, that's true, of course. That's what I will always be thanks to my ability become pregnant and to give birth, for which I am very, very thankful. Once a mother's first baby is born, that baby's mother will never, ever be the same. The mom has gone from being a non-mother, or mother-to-be, to a mother. The difference is huge, no matter what happens after the birth.

The urge to reproduce can make people do funny things and I think that the birth control pill and other technologies have taken women away from our intuition. The young women of the latter twentieth century, if pharmaceutical marketing hype can be believed, will revel in not getting their periods. Perhaps women will soon grow penises and there will be no need for separate bathrooms anymore. The feminists will be thrilled.

I've not been much in the whole joy of my period group of people who bleed onto the earth (I'm not making that up--I read it in a book once) or otherwise celebrate a bit too much their womanliness. However, I thank God for my period, my uterus, my ovaries, my breasts, and all the other things involved in my ability to reproduce. So many people would love to have all those in working order; I am thankful that I do. It frightens me that girls of the future may not have their period. One must ask why the pharmaceutical companies are so very interested in trying to make us more like men.

Micah and Jadon paint their chairs in the pink room:

Caleb and Micah at the park:

Happy Birthday to Mr. Comic Mom's Dad!
Mr. Comic Mom's Dad's (CMD) birthday is today. We talked with him and he is extremely lonely. Or so it seems. His wife died a little over two years ago and he has not seemed to get over that. But who could? It scares me to think that one day Mr. Comic Mom may not be there for me. It scares me also to think that I may not be there for him. This is the thing about these marriages, whether or not they're blessed and certified by the state (which I'm against for whoever's getting married, by the way). But it is quite horrid when one of those happy marriages loses a partner, and the children and grandchildren of that union live across the country. Well, that last part's hard for us, anyway. Sometimes it's very difficult living so far away from family.

Anyway, it's Mr. CMD's birthday, one day before Don Moody's. Let's wish Mr. CMD a Happy Birthday and remember him in our thoughts and prayers.

Here are Mr. CMD's gorgeous (okay, I'm a bit biased) grandsons:

Licking the Bowl:

Writer Envy
Okay, so I'm jealous, but it seems weird to me that a certain particular girl from graduate school has made best seller lists with her "novels." I remember her as surly and mean. Perhaps she's changed. Perhaps she remembers me as surly and mean. The few times that I had contact with Surly Girl, she seemed to dislike her students immensely, via comments about them, and she seemed to be kind of snobby. Who knows? On Surly Girl's Web site these days, she makes a big deal about being a mom and how much she enjoys it, but Surly Girl doesn't seem to care too much about her child(ren). Or maybe she takes him or her or them to her many readings around the country. Who knows? She's secretive about her "personal life" on her Web page and says that personal questions "offend" her. Unfortunately, the whole graduate school milieu lends those of us who partake of it to be offended far too easily. I like to think that I've toughened up a bit since graduate school, that I've become more honest and thicker-skinned. Academia these days is all about being offended by whatever is not politically correct.

Nonetheless, I think about Elizabeth and me, both trying hard to be good writers and good moms. You wouldn't know it by the Internet scuttlebutt about me, but I do try to be a nice person, as if being nice helps much these days. Elizabeth and I don't have time to traipse around the country on book tours. I don't have time to traipse around the country to comedy clubs. And that's okay; in fact, it's one reason that I live in Southern California: I can enjoy my art without going on the road. I've yet to be separated from my children for even a night and I want that trend to continue for a while. Besides, behaving differently in an airport (whatever "differently" means) can get you arrested these days.

My children could give a crap whether I write or do comedy. As with most children, they just care about my being there when they need me. I'm glad I'm not touring anywhere.

All this talk about leaving children reminds me of my college roommate who was so very driven to use her Ph.D. for something in the business world that she would traipse off to conferences, leaving her infant to drink expressed breast milk. She pumped her breasts and sent the milk home to her nanny every day while she was gone on a conference; but she wasn't there to actually put breast to baby's mouth, even when her children were infants and especially needed their mom.

In homeschool groups that have plenty of well-educated women who've taken time off the feminist merry-go-round of business success, I am perhaps one of the most ambitious in areas outside of homeschooling; I love being around moms who believe that their children are more important than careers and I tend to find moms who are like that in homeschooling circles. I'm all for moms making choices, but what kind of a choice is it when your career is more important than your child?

Part of me is jealous of Surly Girl, of course. And maybe she homeschools as well, although that's doubtful. Who knows? After all, she is "offended" by personal questions. But a huge part of me is glad that I don't have the kind of success right now that would drag me around the country, especially with government-paid Behavioral Detection Specialists trying to find out who looks suspicious in airports these days. I'll just sit back and edit proposals at home, thank you. And do comedy at the Canoga Park Bowl. And make videos and blog. And best of all, teach my children. Right now, I am thankful and blessed to be with my babies all day, just the way I like it.

Does the world need another book? Probably not. But it does need some well-behaved and loved and happy children who grow up with mom and dad--and that's what I'm working on.

Week In Review
Let's see, this week I've edited a 50-page report that will go to the Department of Defense, edited some environmental crap and some advertising stuff for a place in San Francisco, talked to a fan of my lesbian blog (she's from North Carolina!), helped a friend's daughter with a poetry assignment, and presented "Rules and Grammar" to a homeschool group, among other things. The latter I did today, after being totally discombobulated (however that's spelled) by the spinning sperm failure, which I'll go into later. We're trying to get to Trader Joe's right now, before they close. We've also read (at home) from the book of Proverbs, which has some really interesting stuff in it. People should read more of Proverbs.

The sperm spinning failure, I might add, was not due at all to Mr. Comic Mom's sperm, or to Mr. Comic Mom, but to a stupid law for the "lowest common denominator," as my ob/gyn put it, that says any spun sperm must come from a person with a blood test. So, Mr. Comic Mom, despite being, as far as I know, disease-free, and if he had syphillis or hepatitis, don't you think I'd have it by now?!? But the law is written so that Mr. Comic Mom, or any other person whose sperm must go in by a way that's not natural, must have a blood test. The results take two days to come back. By that time, ovulation was over for the month and so we must wait. Dr. K. was not even able to schedule a sperm spinning until the results came back. By then, it was too late. For this month.

But here's the real question: Why is it that Dr. K., who was pretty well aware that I wanted a girl when Jadon was born and I said, "The next one will be a girl," which, to me is a pretty big clue, why is it that he failed to tell me about this sperm spinning thing? Why is it that the hypnotist had to tell me?!? Maybe that's the real question.

More about sperm spinning later . . .

Sperm Spinning
More information, coming up! (so to speak :)

A Bit of Poetry
Here's a John Donne poem for you:

The Sun Rising

Busy old fool, unruly sun,
Why dost thou thus.
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late schoolboys, and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the King will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beams, so reverend and strong
Why shouldst thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long;
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and tomorrow late, tell me
Whether both the Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kinds whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay.

She's all states, and all princes I,
Nothing else is.
Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honor's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus;
Thine age asks ease, and since they duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.

One of my favorite teachers in graduate school was Dr. R. V. Young. He and Dr. Tom Hester published the John Donne Journal, out of North Carolina State University. It's hard to find a wittier professorial pair. "The Sun Rising" is one of my favorite Donne poems because it describes a man with his lover who doesn't want to rise, even though the sun is indeed rising. The last part alludes to the pre-Renaissance idea of the earth as the cosmological center of the universe, as the speaker is the center of his own universe, as if he can control the sun.

Well, I could go on . . . This poem was written around the early 17th century.