Some of my favourites are Poe, Alexander Pope, Shakespeare (poetry and sonnets) and recently Edmund Spenser. I adore Blake's paintings but his poems... I don't know. And of course, I love the Classics... Ovid, Homer, Hesiod, etc.
Here's a poem I wrote a while ago. 18+
The WhirlpoolHearken heavens desolate, let I supplicate.
This cruel, green-eyed Lady took me her thrall:
I know that her I adore, but more I know not.
True friend, or fickle paramour? What, if neither?
Bleed I, for her face is full of thorns: I impale
Mine own lips, dying afresh to steal each kiss.
When I bleed, drained of red liquor
Which do stain my cheeks instead,
I beg her warm embrace, request
The proffered cure, no matter the cost:
Splaying my shape on her tepid temple-bed,
Spraying naked limbs with tears and sweat.
My fair, blasphemous Lady.
An eddy be thou, some whirlpool,
With eyes of green or blue,
Sucking the hapless sailor, whose
Sails flutter, with mast erect,
To the grinding depths.
Neither the Greek sculptors, nor God herself
Without error could depict our merged splendour,
As we together laze, of all deceptions stripped:
Bites after bites, conquest after conquest,
Black-and-blue our necks, hands exploring
Hair of gold-and-ginger, pressed against
Chest of ivory, honey-dripping belly.
True friend, or paramour fickle?
Chaste dove, pigeon licentious,
Or lovesick cormorant,
Who desires all and all?
This or that, thee I adore
Friend beyond compare,
Green-eyed Lady,
Lover profane.