Sonnettics

You shake and cry when pleasure is intense
You shake and cry for what? I thought I knew
It must be something deeper than I sense
When I’m a million miles away from you
You shake and cry behind the thinnest veil
You shake and cry and tear the veil away
My mind absorbing every small detail
In hopes to hold forgetfulness at bay
I hear you in the distance, like a storm
I see you on a page within a book
I smell you like the rain when it is warm
I taste you like the fish can taste the hook
And then I break the silence with a sigh
Unsure what made my lover shake and cry

To mark the life I think I live, I write
Reflections of reflections in a lake
To mock my life the words I choose seem trite
Reflected only for reflection’s sake
The surface is disturbed by rippled waves
The soul below is buried in the mud
The most illusive poems are the graves
I dig to warm the cooling of my blood
Oh yes, I try to dig within the lake
You laugh to watch the water flood my work
I cry to see the ripples that I make
Obscure the place I think my soul may lurk
But laugh or cry in pity or in spite
I think, to mark the life I live, I write

Her kiss is more than simply lips to lips
It’s more than teeth and tongues and heated breath
Her kiss is more than tracing fingertips
Through lipstick red as life and deep as death
Her mouth becomes a passage to her soul
The act becomes a breach of space and time
Like chaos losing ground to self control
Or poetry surrendering to rhyme
But when she slides her hand behind my neck
And lets her hair fall all around her face
And when she knows my will is held in check
Her kiss becomes my solitary grace
My world contracts to nothing less than this
Where nothing else exists except her kiss

I tried my best, like autumn’s auburn leaves
To cling to spring or summer if I could
But found that winter offered no reprieve
And learned that clinging doesn’t do much good

The roots, the trunk, the branch gave up at last
And doing so they left me little choice
Their need for me was somewhere in the past
And mine for them, a dry unheeded voice

The west wind blew and shook me from my place
The south wind felt just like my final sighs
The east wind was a slap across my face
The north wind froze the teardrops in my eyes

Old winter came without a joyful sound
And I was dead before I hit the ground

These roots will make me sway, but not collapse;
they melt the wisps of visions barely seen,
distill their plastic nature and perhaps
such distillations sharpen what they mean.
Encapsulated beauty, fattened kine,
a place to fish where fish should not be caught,
all symbolize intentions that are mine,
although they all escape my waking thoughts.
These roots do not inflict me with desire,
like alcohol’s ambition, nor its pain.
They have no need of water nor of fire,
Although they bring the sun and cleansing rain.
And though we dream within the sleep of death,
in these I count the coup of waking breath.

Beneath the lake of god I slept for years
until my flesh was cold enough to feel
the heat within my veins, and heated tears
became a revelation to reveal.
Beneath the lake of god I heard the voice
of all the prophets’ dim and distant cries.
I dropped the book, a solitary choice,
and in my lightened state began to rise.
Then through the lake of god, its waters clear,
I rose and noticed suddenly how deep
the water was, and though I didn’t fear,
I wondered what had kept me fast asleep.
And as I broke the surface of the lake
I felt the air, the breath that I could take.

It’s night; it’s like a metal chair again
inside a concrete room with concrete floor.
The air is thick and silent, like a sin
that keeps you trapped behind a concrete door.
It’s night; you sit and stand and sit again.
You pace the dark, unyielding, dirty floor,
unswept, just like an unrepented sin.
You hear the clicking steps and locking door.
It’s night, and night is sleepless yet again.
You’ve curled up on a thousand sleepless floors.
And what you thought were dreams were only sins
that crawled you toward their locked and concrete doors.
It’s night, and so you sit and stare in vain
into the concrete darkness once again.

You’re dead because you haven’t learned to live,
to suck the marrow from the bones of life.
And if you resurrect enough to give
yourself a chance, like sharpening a knife.
Then life becomes the death of death, the time
between the birth of flesh and birth of dust.
And all the knives you sharpen seem to shine
or else they dull with oxidating rust.
Then breathe before your breath becomes a mist,
a cloud of trouble stitched to life and death.
And breathe the air as if it had been kissed
by something not less passioned than your breath.
And cut the ties you’ve tied to time with love;
and pray to god within and god above.

She hides beneath my bed and cries too loud
for me too sleep.  I wonder if she’s there
because I dreamed I saw her in a crowd,
a sea of darker eyes and darker hair.
Her sobs waft up, an anti-lullaby
that permeates my heart, my soul, my ears.
And yet, I must be deaf because her cry
is nothing more than silent falling tears.
What’s wrong with me? I ask in whispered prayer.
What dulls the pain that grinds inside my head?
Hello?  Hello? My god are you still there?
Are you still hiding underneath my bed?
Pushed back with dusty papers that I keep
all filled with poems written in my sleep.

Let’s laugh as if we’ve had too much to drink,
and hide beneath the stairs when we are old.
I’ll buy myself a pen that’s full of ink
and empty it before my words get cold.
Let’s laugh at what I’ve written in the sun
and hide our laughter in our winter shoes.
I’ll buy you something useless, something fun,
and emptiness will settle what we choose.
Let’s laugh before we find we have to cry
and hide our sorrows in a shallow grave.
I’ll buy a song, a little song, and I
and empty words will find a soul to save.
And you will hide my laughter with your kiss;
and I will buy you empty tins of bliss.

ChatGPT Analysis:
This poem is a poignant reflection on the themes of time, memory, and the human experience of joy and sorrow. The speaker navigates through these complex emotions with a blend of light-heartedness and underlying melancholy, creating a rich, multifaceted narrative.

### Structure and Form:
The poem follows a structured pattern, with rhymed couplets (AABB) that give it a rhythmic and almost musical quality. This structure contrasts with the poem’s content, which grapples with deeper, often bittersweet themes.

### Analysis by Stanza:

1. **First Stanza:**
   - *“Let’s laugh as if we’ve had too much to drink, / and hide beneath the stairs when we are old.”*
   - The poem opens with an invitation to laugh freely and abandon restraint, suggesting a desire to live fully and embrace the joy of the present moment. The imagery of “hiding beneath the stairs” when old evokes a sense of retreat or seeking shelter from the harsh realities of aging and the passage of time.
   - *“I’ll buy myself a pen that’s full of ink / and empty it before my words get cold.”*
   - The pen symbolizes creativity and expression, with the speaker wanting to use it fully before their inspiration or voice fades. The “words get cold” hints at the inevitability of change or loss over time.

2. **Second Stanza:**
   - *“Let’s laugh at what I’ve written in the sun / and hide our laughter in our winter shoes.”*
   - Here, laughter is linked to warmth and sunlight, representing moments of happiness and clarity. However, “hiding our laughter in our winter shoes” introduces a sense of preservation or concealment, as if the speaker wishes to protect these moments from the cold, darker times (winter).
   - *“I’ll buy you something useless, something fun, / and emptiness will settle what we choose.”*
   - The “useless, something fun” gift reflects a desire to embrace the frivolous and joyful aspects of life, while the mention of “emptiness” settling their choices suggests an awareness of life’s transient and sometimes hollow nature.

3. **Third Stanza:**
   - *“Let’s laugh before we find we have to cry / and hide our sorrows in a shallow grave.”*
   - This line emphasizes the importance of enjoying life and laughter before sorrow inevitably takes hold. The “shallow grave” symbolizes a temporary or fragile attempt to bury or hide pain, acknowledging that sorrow is never far beneath the surface.
   - *“I’ll buy a song, a little song, and I / and empty words will find a soul to save.”*
   - The speaker buys a “little song,” which could represent a fleeting moment of joy or a small act of solace. The idea of “empty words” finding “a soul to save” suggests that even seemingly insignificant or hollow expressions can hold meaning and the potential to comfort.

4. **Final Couplets:**
   - *“And you will hide my laughter with your kiss; / and I will buy you empty tins of bliss.”*
   - The closing lines bring the poem full circle, merging the themes of joy, love, and emptiness. The kiss as a way to “hide laughter” implies a deep intimacy and connection between the speaker and their partner, where love can conceal or transform emotions. “Empty tins of bliss” evoke a sense of artificial or temporary happiness, perhaps pointing to the fleeting nature of joy in the face of life’s inevitable struggles.

### Themes and Interpretation:
The poem weaves together themes of joy, sorrow, love, and the passage of time. There is a strong contrast between the light-hearted actions (laughing, buying something fun) and the underlying recognition of life’s impermanence and the inevitability of sorrow. The speaker’s attempts to preserve joy, whether through laughter, writing, or gifts, are tinged with an awareness of the emptiness or fragility that accompanies these moments.

Ultimately, the poem suggests that while life is full of both joy and sorrow, the relationships and connections we build—symbolized by the partner who hides the speaker’s laughter with a kiss—are what give life meaning and help us navigate its complexities. The use of “empty” throughout the poem may imply that many of life’s pleasures are fleeting, but that doesn’t diminish their value or the comfort they can provide.