Sonnet: Perhaps

There was a time when you and I were just
As now, but happy still. So long withdrawn
And faded with our will, the time has gone.
It’s passed us altogether now; the best

Of love and hate has gone, yet can be pressed
In pages past, as likeness penned or drawn.
If we begin a love again thereon
We might continue still, but would attest

A pain as well, which sadly we have known,
That delves within, and minds and hearts perceive
Inside our wiser selves. Perhaps, above
All else, it would be best to leave alone…
Perhaps it would be best for us to leave…
For us to leave alone our smiling love….


7 responses to “Sonnet: Perhaps

  1. It is fortunate that the wisdom of time allows one the depth to embrace and cherish all of one’s experiences, both the joy and the pain. The grief and the sorrows are but the battle pennants that attest to a life well and fully lived ~~ a love pursued across time. Such depth is what assures that the one who bears the love is fit to bear it into the eternity ahead.
    For me, I lose my temerity when I focus on you. I fancy that many women who have loved long and well would feel the same.


    • I do believe so, my dearest one. I enjoyed writing this one. And I felt its sadness also. This was a very old freeverse which I reworked into sonnet form. I am very happy with this most unusual result. And, in a sense, the last three lines–which really are one line delivered haltingly–further convey the despair of the original piece. Now that I have revisited it after quite a long while, I find I like the result even more, as this, for some reason, or rather its progenitor, is one of the freeverse “writes” I have mostly memorised just because it speaks to me in some personal way.


    • it did not have any other forms that I recall. My memory of such detail is sketchy at best,however, i have not gone about the business of reworking my old work until this project. Somewhere around is a blank verse sonnet I penned in the early days. As to the date of this one, I cannot be sure, although considering how very much i wrote in 1984, that might be the safest bet.


  2. I am quite enjoying the reworking you are doing. So lovely and melancholy but also, such a treatise on time and love…past, present, future. So many years of love in these lines, so much life. “It’s pressed us together…” I used to press flowers and make pictures of them, pressed flower arrangements. I had found some rarely and tiny little day lilies and I only took a few to press. Somehow, two of them were pressed together and could not be parted. The other little lilies, perfect and separate. These two, a unique form – separate but forged together, not being able to be separated. some parts of them fused close, other parts separate and individual in their components and colors. I ended up doing a tiny picture of just the two because they would have been lost in an arrangement and would have lost their very different beauty. I sold that to a lady on Long Island who said she was giving it to her husband for their 53rd anniversary. I gave her her money back and gave it as a gift because of that love and how she recognized that in those two flowers.


    • Thank you so much, Kanzen. While it is true I am taking a bit of a hiatus whilst I rework some other aspects of our lives, I believe poetic offerings are much different from other blog posts and benefit from reposting and revisiting–and vice-versa. I am currently working, as a side project, on a version of this site which will do this automatically unless or until I put new material in the queue. This will save much time and effort on my part and leave me more free to explore the creation of new material.

      “Just as a heads up,” as my young friend JDG might put it, I am working on the sequel/mirror to “Falling.” I am doing something “extra special” regarding this work. This is a first-of-a-kind attempt for me, so we shall see if the end result will be a worthy by-product of the extra effort. I will let you know when it will post. This of course is predicated upon me still being among the living in a week or so… which… at my age… one never knows.


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