A very old sequence I had forgotten about:

This is a sequence of four.  I’m putting it up and finishing the final sonnet which I had left about half written.  These, I’m putting in the queue immediately following my next new sonnet.   A few words changed/corrected.  But mostly as they were.  And of course, number four finished, though I’m not sure if finished seamlessly.  Now that they are flipped, here is a link to Sonnet 1.

Clearly, by early 1984 I had already been experimenting with internal rhyming.  My tradition, if you can call it that, once it was established, was to at least rhyme sentences or clauses which had a sense of a mid-line full stop.  I have liked, and continued, that practice in general, from then on.  Now, I feel compelled to do it, or else it feels as though something is missing.

Sonnet II: Her Remembrance of Me

So sweet, that dreameth she, when dark the night,
Of he, her sweetness knew, and were as sweet
His understanding, patient of her thought,
That grew, to her remembrance, by the hour.

In these, as felt within her heart, requite;
So he, her longing knew, as made to beat
As beat his own, though she, her heart dore not–
At rest, so lonely she, within her bower.

And dreameth she, as he, of her delight;
That he, her sweetness, doth partake, when meet
They next–when they their final meeting sought–
An this be soon, so dreameth she, empower,

As so it might, our lives to make complete–
That ought, my love, with untold blessings, shower.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Sonnet I: His Favour

At rest she lieth down within her bed,
Doth close long lidded eyes, though not to sleep
In her repose for soft, round limbs to rest;
And then, in longing yet, her thoughts toward him:

Of words so closely shared, or left unsaid;
Such secrets, told or not, as cause to weep;
With his remembrance tight against her prest,
Though now, so tattered, once yet thought a whim,

Her tears to calm, his favour held instead,
That holdeth now her heart in safety’s keep,
To lull, so sweet her countenance, to rest–
Then close her eyes again, as night grew dim.

And once we wed, doth dream my love now deep,
As blest, our lives entwined, as any hymn.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence: click here to read it all:

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Sonnet: 101.8

About me all reality doth spin,
The ground beneath my feet doth buck and twist,
My eyes alight on anything herein,
And will perceive its panic-worthy list.

And panic is the most confused of sound
Which swells and whirls around my pounding ears,
Confusing and directionless: its sound,
Exacerbating measureless: my fears.

Perceive I not the matter I may touch,
As whether hard or soft, or hot or cold.
Although such nature hardly matters much,
such things are all completely uncontrolled.

My digits, my appendages feel thick
I think I am most positively sick.

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