Casanova in Venice: A Raunchy Rhyme

Front Cover
The Porcupine's Quill, 2010 - Poetry - 77 pages
0 Reviews
Giacomo Casanova Economy in pleasure is not to my taste. Awake my lute! and trumpets blow for one who never could say No! so powerful his virile charm a wench would catch him by the arm and pull him down to kiss and fondle her in the seclusion of a gondola. This was a man so much traduced -- though less seducer than seduced -- called monster of Venetian lust for whom good Christians had disgust Of all his scolds himself the worst since in old age he'd boast and curse, accuse himself, though not to blame for playing Nature's sweetest game with naughty females after dinner. God hates the sin but loves the sinner, he told himself, so seized the day, or rather night, and sinned away and thus assured of heavenly love delighted in each raunchy move. The flame of amorous desire flares briefly like a straw-fed fire and just as briefly flickers out. We wonder: What was that about? Why did we sigh and lose our sleep and hold our dignity so cheap? For certain, every nubile dame rolled in the sack is much the same. Often our man was set to wed but freedom was his choice instead: It's fine to have a loving wife -- but penile servitude for life? No way! But more, it would be rash to keep a woman without cash. For he too often lacked the ready -- Poet, wait up a moment, steady! Whom do we speak of? Name the man, describe his person if you can. Time has pronounced him lovers' king, at board and bed the hottest thing whose charm no female could resist -- onto her back as soon as kissed! Con artist first of all the crew, both con in French and English too. He would be handsome, said a peer, were he not ugly, And we hear smallpox had scarred his cheeks along; complexion sallow; features strong; in person very tough and wiry, in temperament vengeful and fiery. Called vain -- the accusation's phony for what he was, was Macaroni. He wore such clothes as would assure a repute for la bella figura; moreover those who called him vain had no idea of his brain. Opulent people almost never believe a semi-pauper clever. If you're so smart, sneers Mistress Bitch, (through golden teeth) how come not rich? I have to interrupt once more, give us the name, I must implore! Maybe we know him, maybe not, but please don't put us on the spot. Be straight with us and play the game -- all we're demanding is the name. His Christian names, if you must know, were Giacomo Hieronimo, his last -- I've worked the subject over but can't find rhymes for Casanova. except the cockney one displayed -- and I'm not cockney, I'm afraid. New House, it means, this patronymic, some joker must have found this gimmick, as if he said, Heigh ho! my nasty nature can institute a dynasty.

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Selected pages

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

About the author (2010)

Kildare Dobbs is an award-winning writer and poet who has lived the world over. Born in 1923, in India, Dobbs was raised in Ireland, and educated in Dublin, Cambridge and London. After serving in the Royal Navy during World War II and in East Africa, Dobbs finally migrated to Canada in 1952 and worked in journalism and publishing. His autobiography, Running to Paradise (1962), won a Governor-General's Award, and since then he has published various collections of short stories, novella

Wesley W. Bates was born in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory. One of Canada's best-known wood engravers, Bates has ventured into book illustration (W. O. Mitchell's "The Black Bonspiel of Willie MacCrimmon"), commercial art (the voyageur motif for Upper Canada Brewery), letterpress publishing (through his West Meadow Press) and acoustic country -- played, naturally, on a bouzouki. A collection of his engravings, "The Point of the Graver", was published to great acclaim in 1994. He now maintains his studio, which is open to the public, in a nineteenth-century storefront on the Main Street of Clifford, Ontario.

Bibliographic information