You know no proper toast for the realization that all the years of married life combined now add up to more than half your age. A minor miracle, considering you swore you'd never do it again. Only in two of those years did the night- blooming cereus show itself. And only in a few instances did you feel you were ready to throw in the towel, storm off into the night and never come back. Which is to say, perhaps you might not have liked always being by yourself. When the flower that blooms only for a night starts unfurling its petals, the sight and scent last a few hours. The botanical guide suggests holding a late night party; you and your loves could watch as this scrawny vine blooms, and takes your breath away.
Poetry Blog Digest 2023, Weeks 51-52: Holidaze edition
Happy 2024! This edition of the digest—a personal selection of posts from the Poetry Blogging Network and beyond—takes us from the winter solstice to New Year’s, with year-end summary posts, favorite books, and plans for the year ahead as well as reflections on the season. Although I tend to quote my favorite bits, please do click through and read the whole posts. You can also browse the blog digest archive, subscribe to its RSS feed in your favorite feed reader, or, if you’d like it in your inbox, subscribe on Substack.
Continue reading “Poetry Blog Digest 2023, Weeks 51-52: Holidaze edition”Housemates
At the end of the last and the beginning of this year, I do live in one of the houses belonging to the Navy Office, as one of the principal officers, and have done now about half a year. After much trouble with workmen I am now almost settled; my family being, myself, my wife, Jane, Will. Hewer, and Wayneman, my girle’s brother.
Myself in constant good health, and in a most handsome and thriving condition. Blessed be Almighty God for it. I am now taking of my sister to come and live with me. As to things of State.—The King settled, and loved of all. The Duke of York matched to my Lord Chancellor’s daughter, which do not please many. The Queen upon her return to France with the Princess Henrietta. The Princess of Orange lately dead, and we into new mourning for her.
We have been lately frighted with a great plot, and many taken up on it, and the fright not quite over. The Parliament, which had done all this great good to the King, beginning to grow factious, the King did dissolve it December 29th last, and another likely to be chosen speedily.
I take myself now to be worth 300l. clear in money, and all my goods and all manner of debts paid, which are none at all.
Called up this morning by Mr. Moore, who brought me my last things for me to sign for the last month, and to my great comfort tells me that my fees will come to 80l. clear to myself, and about 25l. for him, which he hath got out of the pardons, though there be no fee due to me at all out of them.
Then comes in my brother Thomas, and after him my father, Dr. Thomas Pepys, my uncle Fenner and his two sons (Anthony’s only child dying this morning, yet he was so civil to come, and was pretty merry) to breakfast; and I had for them a barrel of oysters, a dish of neat’s tongues, and a dish of anchovies, wine of all sorts, and Northdown ale. We were very merry till about eleven o’clock, and then they went away.
At noon I carried my wife by coach to my cozen, Thomas Pepys, where we, with my father, Dr. Thomas, cozen Stradwick, Scott, and their wives, dined. Here I saw first his second wife, which is a very respectfull woman, but his dinner a sorry, poor dinner for a man of his estate, there being nothing but ordinary meat in it. To-day the King dined at a lord’s, two doors from us. After dinner I took my wife to Whitehall, I sent her to Mrs. Pierces (where we should have dined today), and I to the Privy Seal, where Mr. Moore took out all his money, and he and I went to Mr. Pierces; in our way seeing the Duke of York bring his Lady this day to wait upon the Queen, the first time that ever she did since that great business; and the Queen is said to receive her now with much respect and love; and there he cast up the fees, and I told the money, by the same token one 100l. bag, after I had told it, fell all about the room, and I fear I have lost some of it.
That done I left my friends and went to my Lord’s, but he being not come in I lodged the money with Mr. Shepley, and bade good night to Mr. Moore, and so returned to Mr. Pierces, and there supped with them, and Mr. Pierce, the purser, and his wife and mine, where we had a calf’s head carboned, but it was raw, we could not eat it, and a good hen. But she is such a slut that I do not love her victualls.
After supper I sent them home by coach, and I went to my Lord’s and there played till 12 at night at cards at Best with J. Goods and N. Osgood, and then to bed with Mr. Shepley.
I live with
a family of the dead
we dissolve like all last things
on the tongue
north of nothing
but white and fear
I have a calf’s head
to play cards
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 1 January 1661.
Seven for the New Year
~ after Issa
One screw falls off
the doorbell; it's somewhere
in the grass, not chiming.
We no longer write
checks—no danger now
of getting the year wrong.
Colder and colder, but only
cloudy. We snip lacy
paper into snowflakes.
Oysters drawn up from
the river depths. Find the hinge
with the point of a knife.
It's always easiest after
the yield. Then they slide
sweet down the throat.
New moon soon after the new
year. Raise a glass with hints
of oak, cardamom, allspice.
Let's make no resolutions—
after all, we are here.
Let's be here.
Free eBook: The Hidden Poems of Samuel Pepys, 1660
Here it is. Feel free to download as many times as you like, share, re-erase, etc.
I had some thoughts about re-erasing Year 1 of Pepys’ diary over on my author site.

Year’s end
At the office all the morning and after that home, and not staying to dine I went out, and in Paul’s Church-yard I bought the play of “Henry the Fourth,” and so went to the new Theatre (only calling at Mr. Crew’s and eat a bit with the people there at dinner) and saw it acted; but my expectation being too great, it did not please me, as otherwise I believe it would; and my having a book, I believe did spoil it a little.
That being done I went to my Lord’s, where I found him private at cards with my Lord Lauderdale and some persons of honour. So Mr. Shepley and I over to Harper’s, and there drank a pot or two, and so parted. My boy taking a cat home with him from my Lord’s, which Sarah had given him for my wife, we being much troubled with mice.
At Whitehall inquiring for a coach, there was a Frenchman with one eye that was going my way, so he and I hired the coach between us and he set me down in Fenchurch Street. Strange how the fellow, without asking, did tell me all what he was, and how he had ran away from his father and come into England to serve the King, and now going back again.
Home and to bed.
I dine with the people
in my book
done with the cat
one eye going my way
down without asking
how to land
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 31 December 1660.
Gathered
(Lord’s day). Lay long in bed, and being up, I went with Will to my Lord’s, calling in at many churches in my way. There I found Mr. Shepley, in his Venetian cap, taking physique in his chamber, and with him I sat till dinner.
My Lord dined abroad and my Lady in her chamber, so Mr. Hetly, Child and I dined together, and after dinner Mr. Child and I spent some time at the lute, and so promising to prick me some lessons to my theorbo he went away to see Henry Laws, who lies very sick.
I to the Abby and walked there, seeing the great confusion of people that come there to hear the organs. So home, calling in at my father’s, but staid not, my father and mother being both forth.
At home I fell a-reading of Fuller’s Church History till it was late, and so to bed.
in bed with all
my organs in me
reading till late
Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 30 December 1660.
Twelve Round Fruit
Above the Elizabeth River, the sky boils
red and orange, fiery as the flames
that have rained all year through the world.
This we can call beautiful, before it fades
in a flash, swallowed by the throat of universal
night. Around the neighborhood, sweep
of streets carpeted with dry pine needles.
Students not yet back to crowd campus—
I like the tentative quiet of this interval, this small
cup at the end of the year filling with odds
and ends of insect sound and the airhorn of
an occasional tugboat. On the counter,
I arrange a bowl of twelve round fruit, their cheeks
full and their skins firm: may the year be like them.
Ode to January
Cleaning up, in a file folder I find forms reminding me insurance coverage is about to expire for the dryer, refrigerator, dishwasher; and an email from work reminds me I need to change my password in seven days. My passport has also expired. Some library books are almost due. The milk is past its "sell by" date, and I don't remember how long a mystery condiment has sat in its jar in the back of the shelf. We are one day away from the first of the year— when even without fanfare, it's possible to look backward and forward at the same time.
Writerly
Within all the morning. Several people to speak with me; Mr. Shepley for 100l.; Mr. Kennard and Warren, the merchant, about deals for my Lord. Captain Robert Blake lately come from the Straights about some Florence Wine for my Lord, and with him I went to Sir W. Pen, who offering me a barrel of oysters I took them both home to my house (having by chance a good piece of roast beef at the fire for dinner), and there they dined with me, and sat talking all the afternoon-good company. Thence to Alderman Backwell’s and took a brave state-plate and cupp in lieu of the candlesticks that I had the other day and carried them by coach to my Lord’s and left them there. And so back to my father’s and saw my mother, and so to my uncle Fenner’s, whither my father came to me, and there we talked and drank, and so away; I home with my father, he telling me what bad wives both my cozen Joyces make to their husbands, which I much wondered at. After talking of my sister’s coming to me next week, I went home and to bed.
I speak with a pen
having the fire for company
and a plate and cup
in lieu of mother and father
and what I wonder
is coming next
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 29 December 1660.

