Sonnettics

I want my love to trust me, but I know
Her life and mine have both been plagued by doubt
I want my love to stay, to never go
I feel that that’s what love is all about
I never want to violate her trust
It’s precious and it needs a precious home
Some things I want to do, and some I must
I can’t just paint my love in monochrome
My trust in her is central to my heart
I trust her like my verse relies on words
Though poetry can never quite impart
The way I feel; it’s clouds obscuring birds
I want my love to trust me; I’ll be true
It’s not just what I say; it’s what I’ll do.

I love to watch the finch; she builds her nest
By picking bits and pieces that she finds
Her comfort is secure; her home is best
I watch her build; I wonder if she minds?
I think she knows I’d never hurt her, no!
And yet she builds protection for her home
Her home is not a gilded cage, although
It’s metaphorically a golden dome
She found some metal pieces on the ground
She placed them ’round her nest and made them neat
It’s strange, the metal pieces that she found
Have made the home she’s building seem complete
I don’t know what the fickle future brings
But I will watch and listen as she sings.

This ecstasy of words is something new
I never knew the passion they could bring
When shared with someone who’s impassioned too
And loves to hear sonnettic words I sing
I guess iambic rhythm turns her on
Or else she feels my words are warm, like skin
But either way, the French would call it bon
La petite mort is started deep within
I need to make a lover of my friend
Our words compel our friendship to remain
The words of love will never have an end
Our wordless sounds will not be sung in vain
I want to make her scream in ecstasy
with passion that my lover feels for me.

I always thought my past was something real
But then it disappeared when I got hurt
My memories were dark and they’d conceal
The life I thought would never go inert
Today I feel the moments, sharp as pins
As thoughts cascade upon my life’s steep slope
I know each moment’s real as it begins
The avalanche of pain with which I cope
Tomorrow and tomorrow . . . It’s been said
My syllables are not some petty pace
Someday I may not care if I am dead
Someday I’ll plan to win some future race
The past, the present, future, all are mine
I love and hate them all as they combine.

She called me, though she didn’t have a clue
If I was some sadistic evil guy
Or something worse than that; she never knew
If she’d regret her phone call, by-and-by
I heard her drop the F-bomb, like a dare
To see if I offended easily
Or maybe just to see if I would care
That passion could proceed haphazardly
But words are more than passion in her voice
I heard her choose her words like something sweet
A kid would choose, like candy at the store
So what if it’s a word she might repeat?
I like her if she says it less or more
Irreverently, our conversation falls
But hey, they’re only words, and she’s got . . .

Extraordinary life is hard to live
You may not choose to be, and yet you are
Your brain gets strained, like pasta in a sieve
Your thoughts are mixed, like sauce within a jar
The table of your life is neatly set
But somebody forgot the centerpiece
Some Chardonnay can help your guests forget
The dinner of your life will never cease
Don’t worry. Rest assured, your life is good
It isn’t like some ordinary chow
Your guests will all enjoy it, and they should
They’ll feast on words of life you will endow
If life was easy, life would be a bore
Extraordinary makes it so much more!

I love you, but you’re not the one for me
My words are not my actions, Don’t believe
These pretty words; they’ll bring you misery
Their danger’s more than even I conceive
I’m sorry; I am not the one for you
You’re perfect as you are, but I am not
Your only flaw is thinking words are true
But words are just the jewelry that I’ve got
My crown is made of poetry, not gold
I’m just a damn good poet, not a prince
Your heart is warm, but mine is icy cold
The truth is not a thing my words evince
I guess that means my silence is a gift
Enjoy it while it lasts; my mood may shift.

She brings me peace when chaos seems to reign
I need her peace; she needs my strength, my care
She comforts me when I succumb to pain
She’s Beautiful, compassionate, and fair
When she gets weary of the time she’s in
I’ll bring her where she knows she needs to be
She’ll put her hand in mine and we’ll begin
She’ll journey with the Traveller, that’s me
And when she finds the golden clime that’s sweet
She’ll kiss my hand and tell me, “It’s alright.”
My journey will be done; I’ll be complete
She’ll run, but never vanish from my sight
The peace she brings will never disappear
All life’s sweet aspirations bring her near.

Oh, Angel Muse, I need, please give me voice
My words all swirl around my damaged brain
If I could die, it wouldn’t be my choice
I’d rather live with memories of pain
I’m more than what I am; I don’t know what
There’s beauty in my heart; I need to feel
I’ll live through every scene of life, uncut
Although at times I’ll wonder if it’s real
Each quatrain that I write is like my time
They come in waves of peace, iambically
I know there’s more to poetry than rhyme
There’s more to life than everything I see
Oh, Angel Muse, my thanks is in my breath
You gave me life when I was close to death.

I haven’t got a fucking thing to trade
I lost it all, and yet, I’m still alive
I’ll never dance, although the piper’s paid
My words will fill his music; I’ll contrive
To use the life I’ve got, like golden coins
Although my coins are counterfeit, like death
I love the way the piper’s song enjoins
The living souls to savor every breath
I’d trade my breath for what I had before
My gold was gold, unlike this fucking lead
It’s only lead.  So what if I’ve got more?
Just place it on my eyes when I am dead
I’ll sink into the river Styx from weight
Of counterfeited life, the life I hate.