I love when I can bring a favorite poet into a conversation. This week's blog challenge prompt centers upon playing the "what if" game, specifically "what if time and money were no obstacle?" That, of course, brings to my mind the first two lines from Andrew Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress:"
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime
The poem travels at a leisurely, heading sensuously downward from his mistress' eyes to his much-anticipated destination.
Had I world enough and time, I would ... oh, heck, I wasn't prepared to answer that. I could mention all the usual things, like travel to exotic places and taking those classes or learn those skills (like glass blowing) that fascinate me, building the house of my dreams. Had I unlimited funds and time, though, I would still write. I'd also hire a high-powered marketing team to do everything humanly possible to put my books into the hands of readers and on the big screen. The label of "bestselling" isn't the goal, getting people to read my books or watch movies based on my books is.
Of course, that smacks into the reality that a lot of people don't like reading what I like writing. How dare they? Break out the vinaigrette--and I don't mean salad dressing. Hah. I'm neither so blind nor so self-absorbed as to think that everyone has to pander to my whims. Only almost everyone. There's still a drop of humility left inside. A small one. Somewhere. Hidden deep, deep down where no one will ever find it.
Back to Mr. Marvell, because he's ... well ... something along the lines of marvellous (pun intended in that misspelling). I actually prefer him to Shakespeare. Sacrilege, I know. Strangely--or maybe not--his contemporary John Milton's poetry bores me to tears. Yes, I read Paradise Lost. No, I didn't like it. Born before Marvell, John Carew's another favorite poet. Scholars don't consider him as "good" a poet, but his lighthearted, sappy poetry makes me smile with guilty pleasure. For sheer, good-natured humor, I enjoy Robert Browning, especially "How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." I like Lord Tennyson's sappy and sentimental poetry, too.
One of these days, I'll read Lord Byron's poetry. It was scandalous in its time.
I'm sure my literature professors would be pleased to know that I remember those and even like them. So, had I world enough and time to devote to writing (and reading), "My vegetable love should grow / Vaster than empires, and more slow."