Tag: sonnet

Postmodernism preys

Postmodernism’s the fashion ne’er manque.
We must study Foucault and his scribes.
Get reason trapped and do not court  delay.
You need to find your intellectual tribe.

Where is the goose which laid the golden egg..
Invented meta-talk and fairy tales?
Which narrative is balanced on a peg?
Which philosopher gets re-homed by a whale?

Where is the whole truth and the nothing but?
Whose ‘ the eye which sees reality?
Who ‘s the judge who makes the final cut?
Where is the God to whom we owed fealty?

Now nothing is what anyone can say.
I understand it’s meaningless to pray

I wear my heart

I wear my heart displayed upon my face.
Attentive readers find their meaning there..
Where feelings thought too deep to be embraced
Can shine demurely where they do not scare.

As Freud observed we’re never quite disguised
Betrayal is our body’s real motif
The message comes conspicuous from the eyes..
Bright sparkles or your tears of blackest grief.

The answer to a question seemly leaps
So Yes or No is visibly revealed.
The blush that spreads so fast across the cheeks
Both bold and shy unable to conceal.

Your face tells me you lied when “Love” you wrote.
Yet let us part with song as we are poets.

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And,on the world, shall I bestow my wrath?

Apples with blue and greenWhen true love’s gone

              and doom hangs over head,

When life runs like a river to the sea,

Then, shall I take new lovers to my bed,

And with their carnal touch consoled be?

 

When true loves lie and break my woman’s heart,

When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path,

Then, shall I my life of evil start,

And, on the world, shall I bestow my wrath?

 

When true loves lie and wreck all loyalty;

When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad;

Then I shall upend causality

And let myself do deeds which make me glad.

 

For I have love’s own child inside my soul

And I shall tend her till at last  she’s  grown

The games of love

I gave my heart away to a false love
By his strange stories I had been beguiled.
He whispered such sweet nothings like dove.
He charmed me with his words and with his smiles.

I was a fool an so I paid the price
For I was hoping that real love had come.
But now I know desire made me unwise
He needed power, his love was a shrewd sham.

We must beware when for such love we seek..
We must see clearly or we’ll love a ghost.
We must not assent when we’re feeling weak.
For then mirages manifest the most.

Remember too that love is called a game.
And do not answer when he calls your nam

Snails

When I was only three years,two months old
I saw some snails sip water on a path.
They seemed to me both shy and also bold.
So in delight I gave a joyful laugh.

We loved the flowers along the promenade,,
Whose colours sweet and bright bestowed dear love.
The railings made a playground with their bars.
And all I recall now is sun above.

A little island in an artificial lake
Was also a new playground we adored.
Into my virgin eye the pleasures I would take
To multiply them each by half a score.

Though emptiness and innocence are free
Which adult can allow such states to be?

In honor of Paul Tillich

Paul Tillich gave our spirit proper place.

He showed us courage as a  space to dwell.

He wrote for us and left us with   his  grace

With hope he might speak and he might tell.

So many people ignored Fascist speech

And lived with mind cut off from  their own soul

With pen in hand he wrote to reach

And touch us as we strive towards the whole.

Expelled from his own country, he wrote on

Continuing during  tortuous war long years

He lived, he loved ,he wrote, he died and then

His books continue to dispatch our fears.

For many men have lived and have destroyed.

Yet Tillich showed  us how to face the  void

The man who cannot write or read a book

Though full of direct knowledge of his fellows
Whose eyes and faces are a script humane;
Though voices sing to him like Lobos’ cellos
Yet in lack and loss and woe this man remains..

In times gone by,the voice and face sufficed.
Poets read and we seized upon their lines;
But now a subtle torture’s been devised
To write with pen and letters intertwined.

This man though wise like cat,or bear or owl,
Has failed in his acquaintance with the pen.
Nor does he have the words which politicians howl.
Nor can he read more than his list of sin.

For now the map is where the mind must dwell
And of reality,no-one can tell.

No wisdom

Few men were as gifted as was he;
His talents were both various and strong.
He could not doubt his worthy destiny
Though evil was to show him only wrongs.

No man had more foresight and virtue true.
He mused on his vocation and desires.
Yet history did not tell him what to do.
Nor aid him as he struggled in deep mire.

No man could better see the coming wars
Nor take action to seek a safer home.
Yet even he saw not the frightful pyres.
And the blasting out of ancient,holy homes

No wisdom,openness nor sense nor tact,
Prevents our culture’s suicidal sacks

For life’s but a true story we invent

No words of mine can potently display
the anguish and the joy that touch our lives;
yet all our ghostly forebears went this way
where words may pierce our hearts like sharpened knives.

No sentient being willingly at first
Accepts the pain that true perception brings.
Yet we must not take hearts to be a curse;
we need not flee from knowledge,though it stings.

Each day demands our thoughtfulness and love
from which all better actions rightly come.
Each day the grace we have is just enough,
Continue reading “For life’s but a true story we invent” →

Write well and read with care and thought

A little knowledge cannot do us harm

And on that base with certainty we build

For learning has a wonder and a charm

As with new words our avid mind is filled

 Image

Now poetry and songs can  give us voice

For others who with us share this dear earth.

To dwell in silence is of course a choice

Yet sharing is a means of giving birth.

 

The news is filled with death and with wrong deeds

Our hearts lurch as we read the frightful words

Our blood boils and our minds gain speed

From articles ill thought that do no good

 

Write well and read with care and thought

Lest you by evil also are o’erwrought

When you said love

When you said love,it was not what women hope
For cutting out my heart was no mean feat.
Your wicked love and hatred telescoped
You looked on me as just a piece of meat.
When you were riled,you let your temper rip..
When you swore rage not love I had  dark doubt.s
From Cupid’s cup, you merely took a sip.
You left the cup upturned in  dismal drought.
When you repent,you never let it show.
When you do wrong,you keep your mind alone..
But truth and pain admitted are no blow.
But  hate locked in will cause both tears and groans.
Your charm had won me like a butterfly
Your humid hatred   makes me flutter by.

Your face tells me you lied when love you wrote

I wear my heart displayed upon my face.
Attentive readers find their meaning there..
Where feelings thought too deep to be embraced
Can shine demurely where they do not scare.

As Freud observed we're never quite disguised
Betrayal is our body's real motif
The message comes conspicuous from the eyes..
Bright sparkles or your tears of blackest grief.

The answer to a question seemly leaps
So Yes or No is visibly revealed.
The blush that spreads so fast across the cheeks
Both bold and shy unable to conceal.

Your face tells me you lied when Love you wrote.
Yet let us part with song as we are poets.

Yet like blue glass

No depth is like the deepness of your eyes
No warmth is like the comfort of your smile
Yet sometimes love turns out to be unwise.
And joy can change to feelings dark and vile

Yet like blue glass your eyes compel my gaze.
Your lips invite us to to conjoin with mine.
Have I learned  so little wisdom in my days?
Am I a fool top pass this warning sign?

Yet hope is ever rising in the heart.
Despair is not to be embraced too soon;
and if God wills that our two ways must part
I'll face the error and receive my doom.

For humans must  all give and take of love.
So  tender like the  flutterings of a dove

For God alone

??????????Though all of us may hate the winter cold

And shudder at the thought of frost and snow.

Though all of us hate being called too old

And wonder where our path will ever go.

Though human beings are as frail as grass

And wonder when the Reaper will arrive

Though we may all astruggle as nights pass

And wonder if we wish to be alive.

Though we may make worse our final fate

Solutions are for God alone to give

Though we may shiver at the thoughts that wait

For darkest night where shadowed beings live.

Yet never should we give home to despair

But make of truth and love our lowly fare

Beware the man who grumbles and complains

Bluebells

Beware the man and all men

No woman ever can be what he dreams

Nor can such give comfort on the road.

Yet every night he plots and thinks and schemes.

And rarely does he ever go abroad.

No food he eats will satisfy his tongue.

The best wine is as naught to mother’s milk.

He grumbles and will not admit to wrong.

I ‘ve known more men than him of this same ilk.

No bed can be the right one for his sleep.

No sheets and pillows suit his wary skin.

He often has made gentle maidens weep

Crying out they’are fat or boney thin.’

Beware the man who never can adapt

For in own lone wishes he is trapped

The anguish and the joy that touch our lives.

English: "Touch Me not" flower
English: “Touch Me not” flower (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

No words of mine can potently display
the anguish and the joy that touch our lives;
yet all our ghostly forebears went this way
where words may pierce our hearts like sharpened knives.

No sentient being willingly at first
Accepts the pain that true perception brings.
Yet we must not take hearts to be a curse;

we need not flee from knowledge,though it stings.

Each day demands our thoughtfulness and love
from which all better action gently stems
each day the grace we have is just enough
as through the meta narratives we thumb.

For life’s but a true story we invent,
with passion and with purified intent

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Parting,a sonnet

  •  

    P1000280
    I wear my heart displayed upon my face.
    Attentive readers find their meaning there,
    Where feelings thought too deep to be embraced
    Can shine demurely where they do not scare.

    As Freud observed we’re never quite disguised
    Betrayal is our body’s real motif
    The message comes conspicuous from the eyes..
    Bright sparkles or our tears of blackest grief.

    The answer to a question seemly leaps
    So Yes or No is visibly revealed.
    The blush that spreads so fast across the cheeks,
    Both bold and shy, unable to conceal.

    Your face tells me you lied when “Love” you wrote.
    Yet let us part with song as we are poets.

Related articles

I have no heart and so I cannot feel

  I have no teeth and uncombed I remain;

My hairs silk threads become a tangled briar..
Men gaze on me with ruthless, cold disdain
My visage does no longer light their fire.

Image

I have no mind and so I cannot think

I cannot love nor hate now I grow tired.

Yet runs my nose and do my eyes not blink?
Where is that man with care and with desire?

I have no heart,for it turns cold and hard.
Yet soul I have and spirit and my sight.
At life’s long game I fling down all my cards.
And ask for nothing but a means of flight.

For beauty withers as my wisdom grows.
And none observe the circling of the crow

Dreams may often lie

English: The photographer's wedding ring and i...
English: The photographer’s wedding ring and its heart-shaped shadow in a dictionary. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

No sight is like the rising of sun
When promises of dreams seem  clear and still
My heart ,though pained,can fancy  love has come
Without hard times and exercise of will.

No morning is without new dawn of hope
When all our conflicts shall be put aside.
Imagination is  far flung in scope,
Never  noting dreams may fraughtly lie.

No love is like my long lost love for you
Once known,once felt,it settles in the heart.

Yet I do believe love can be found anew
But only when the lost  true love  departs.

So bother me no more with reveried bliss.
Go leave me with my  life,though all’s amiss

National Poetry Month Display @ Forest Hills
National Poetry Month Display @ Forest Hills (Photo credit: mySAPL)
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A sorry story

Autumn 2013 008

No human being comforts my sore heart

No human being looks with favor on my doubts.

Yet still I ate a tasty  apple tart

And went to bed in nothing but a clout.

No human being loves me as I am

No human being wants to comfort me.

Yet still  today  I shall have cakes and jam.

And drink ten   mugs of  boiling  China tea.

No human being looks inside my soul

No human being  cares about my cares.

Yet still today I’ll eat a bacon roll.

And spray some perfume on my golden hair

For God helps those who help themselves to most.

So I shall  talk with his lamented Ghost

Yet runs my nose and do my eyes not blink?

Blink (novel)
Blink (novel) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have no teeth and combless I remain
My hair once silk is now  a  tangled briar..
Men gaze on me with ruthless cold disdain
My visage does no longer light their fire.

I have no mind and so I cannot think
I cannot love nor hate now I grow tired.
Yet runs my nose and do my eyes not blink?
Where is that man with   care nd with a desire?

I have no heart,or it turns cold and hard.
Yet soul I have and spirit and my sight.
At life’s long game I fling down all my cards.
And ask for nothing but a means of flight.

For beauty withers as my wisdom grows.
And none observe the circling of the crows.

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A newly discovered sonnet by William ~Snakeswagger

English: Edward Lear, illustration for "T...
English: Edward Lear, illustration for “The Owl and the Pussycat” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Eugène Delacroix's 1825 painting "Louis d...
Eugène Delacroix’s 1825 painting “Louis d’Orléans Showing His Mistress”. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 My mistress’ eye is like a currant bun

Though she has problems,she is  quite divine

Her bosom is bared,bold out in the sun.

I hope that  what his hers is also mine?

My mistress eye looks fine as it is glass

She lost her marbles playing with a fox

She’s good at letting errors whistle past

And mending fuses in that little box.

My mistress dear I gaze upon that breast.

I see her skin is warm and she does sweat.

I too have lusted and I have confessed

But still she gambles and she places bets.

In truth I am as fickle as a weed

but each must act according to his need

 

Related articles

 

 

You so love me

Only Time... (49854383)
Only Time… (49854383) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 In the sudden hotness of the day

The bench beside the roses seemed set right.

We  talked about the flowers  so sweet  so  gay,

And whether Love is visible to sight,

 

The flowers seemed more beautiful and rare

Than any flower I’ve let  my eyes rest on.

I welcomed them with bold yet merry stare.

Ah,all too soon bright summer will be gone.

 

The sun was at the apex of the sky.

We caught the moment like a netted fish.

And as we looked the broad white clouds blew by.

All we can do is wish and wish and wish,

 

Now back to dishes,socks and “what’s for tea?”

I live so well because so  you love me

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How I wrote this poem

The subject matter of a poem must come from whatever is inside your head.So reading more poetry or any well written literature contributes.The form of the poem may determine what rises to the surface as you write.I got the idea of beginning with a negative from some poetry newsletter I get [Sorry,not kept  reference] I was reluctant to write a sonnet.Iambic pentamet sounds frightening.To help me keep in my the right structure I recite

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day

Then I have to start,I think if a first line

“Not love nor money should we seek to steal;”

I like that as there is some alliteration,it’s the right length.and I agree with the sentiment.Once I have a first line then  the next lines seem to come more easily.THe whole sonnet is a surprise to me.Did I know I thought like that?Well,in a way, but r so explicitly.I have written about five now.They do resemble poems by the Metaphysicals like Donne.So I am unsure if I have found my own voice.I think the more one write the more likely it is you will find your own voice.Check the meter.Check for cliches.Check for adverbs used to correct the meter

Read poetry in books,on blogs,on the internet.Study some guides like

Teach yourself:writing poetry.

I like

W H Auden ,,Sylvia Plath,SimonArmitage,Donne,Marvell…..,Shakespeare,Rilke,Seamus Heaney,Hopkins,W B Yeats/

but you really need to read some modern poetry,

bus stop 6

BY SOME GRACE

Not love nor money should we seek to steal;
Nor for self praise and honor be in need
For these things cannot ever truly heal.
And onto a wrong path may often lead.

Not to vice nor virtue must our wills be tied;
Yet by some grace we gently may be led
Our will directs attention which denied
May let our pride control our thoughtless head.

Not good nor bad can track the vane of God
Far from our sightless eyes are his affairs.
Yet Faith and Hope can be a dowsing rod
With Love the force to trace the Spirit bare.

Oh,come down,Spirit,take me as your wife
Fill me with holy grace and with new life

Sun on wisteria

Wisteria coils like snakes on red brick walls,
And catches sunshine as it turns about
My eyes feel rapture as the bright light falls,
And out go all uncertainty and doubt.
To forget this self and all my blackest thoughts.
To be by light restored and made anew;
I thank You,who mysteriously has wrought
This world and me and mine and all I know.
To see all things in glory in the sun
To value what your perfect hand has done.
On mundane errands,what a burst of love
Can pierce my heart like singing from a dove.
Give me one hour of glorious,golden light,
And I accept the blackness of your Night

Not love nor money

Not love nor money should we seek to steal;
Nor for self praise and value be in need
For these things cannot ever truly heal.
And onto a wrong path must often lead.

 

Not to vice nor virtue must our wills be tied;
Yet by free grace we gently may be led
Our will directs attention which denied
May let our pride control our mindless heads.

 

Not good nor bad can track the vane of God
Far from our sightless eyes are his affairs.
Yet Faith and Hope can be a dowsing rod
With Love the force to trace the Spirit bare.

Oh,come down,Spirit,take me as your wife
Fill me with holy grace and with new life.

Not love nor money

 

 

Imageonnet

 

Not love nor money should we seek to steal;
Nor for self praise and esteem be in need
For these things cannot ever truly heal.
And onto a wrong path must often lead.

 

Not to vice nor virtue must our wills be tied;
Yet by some grace we gently may be led
Our will directs attention which denied
May let our pride control our thoughtless head.

 

Not good nor bad can track the vane of God
Far from our sightless eyes are his affairs.
Yet Faith and Hope can be a dowsing rod
With Love the force to trace the Spirit bare.

Oh,come down,Spirit,take me as your wife
Fill me with holy grace and with new lif

The Spirit Bare

Not love nor money should we seek to steal;

Nor for self praise and value  be in need

For these things can not ever truly heal.

And onto a wrong path must surely lead.

Not to vice nor virtue  must our wills be tied;

Yet by God’s grace we gently may be led

Our will directs attention which denied

May let our pride control our fuming head.

Not good nor bad can track the vane of God

Far from our sightless eyes are his affairs.

Yet Faith and Hope can be a dowsing rod

With Love the force to trace the Spirit bare.

Oh,come down,Spirit take me as your wife

Fill me with grace and  fill me with new life

He never even made a cup of tea

Not a day for going out for tea
Nor chatting with some vigor on the phone.
Rain falls, variegated as green sea;
And dark earth takes it with a sighing moan.

 

Not a word from him whom I did love
Nor picture,image photograph or mail.
No cooing from a kindly turtle dove;
Just pain that feels some kinship with a nail.

 

Not thinking now nor feeling in my heart;
Not hoping,longing,wishing for his touch.
His last words hit me like a poisoned dart.
Now always I must keep far from his clutch.

Not tea nor even coffee did he brew
That has taught me more than I once knew

The fleeing lovers:a sonnet

Puzzled cats by Kathryn

When yet another lover flees my king sized bed
and leaves me cold and lonely in the night
I wonder on the thoughtless  words I’ve said,
Or if  for him my eyes ddon’t glow woth light?

I lure them in with all my female arts.
They feel I’m like a spider with a trap.
to lure ,devour,digest my  handsome guests,
Some think there should be warnings on the map,

But most who find me feel they have been blessed.
I give them my attention and desire
I give them gentle care and sing sweet songs.
I give them comfort by my winter fire

Oh,come back ,sweet one,don’t desert me yet,
The clothes I washed for you are still quite wet.

 

Lies of love.. a sonnet

 

I wear my heart displayed upon my face.
Attentive readers find their meaning there..
Where feelings thought too deep to be embraced
Can shine demurely where they do not scare.

As Freud observed we're never quite disguised
Betrayal is our body's real motif
The message comes conspicuous from the eyes..
Bright sparkles or your tears of blackest grief.

The answer to a question seemly leaps
So Yes or No is visibly revealed.
The blush that spreads so fast across the cheeks
Both bold and shy unable to conceal.

Your face tells me you lied when Love you wrote.
Yet let us part with song as we are poets.