…hardest on myself whilst “zeroing in,” as it were, on my six month milestone. This is as my psyche seems to strive for irony.
Category Archives: Sonnet Blog
Alone | RL King:A Written World
I so remember writing such things as this below:
I have walked, Alone
Most often, when I needed someone most
I have pushed and pulled
Don’t think I do not know, Alone
This variety of Alone
Has a different torment
For I will never find a partner for this Alone
There is not that hope
Not that imagined dream
The hand has been dealt
And it has a bitterness
It has a solitude indescribable
To teach spirituality, Alone
Drive across snow covered hiway, Alone
To sit, and bear the burden of all I am to teach them, Alone
A conscience weighed with never being good enough, Alone
To return and speak to God, Alone
Wonder if he hears me, Alone
Do not speak to me of, Alone
That, is a lifetime for me
A lifetime,
Of Alone.
Haiku 18-19/09/12 | RL King:A Written World
icy throat clasps heart
dawn~heliotropes awake
such beauty~such love
via Morning Haiku 18/09/12 | RL King:A Written World.
tired, broken~silent
I lay in the warm shadows
of my sweet, bright sun
Sonnet VI: | David Emeron: Sonnets
Of late, I thought to revisit this one which is so framed, now more, in the tradition of such things. Very “chaffy” of me to mix mythologies as do I here:
In aire dost, poise thou in His image, fly
Perfection! bronzed against Hyperion’s blaze;
Exalted! at thy nadir by His rays;
With mastery! dost thou hold thy piece of sky.In aire, for thee, hath stoppt all time; on high,
At perfect flexion, as His Son displayed:
Retract, and tense, ’til once thou deign obey
His gravity, that deign thou not defy.Down! by His unseen force, to Earth art thrown;
Descend thou! as I gasp–thy devotee.
Thou! slicing air! perfection still outshone!
And twist! and roll! and turn! to all degree!
As fly thou through devoted hands alone
With thee, who hast so Godly kist the sea.
Weekend/Strongend…
I will not be back until Monday!!
Weekend!!
Back again??
Yes. I am back again. Perhaps only in a manner of speaking. Creeping back, possibly. Step by step. Inch by inch. (Don’t call me ‘dude.’)
It is not me:
But with some recent news I cannot bear to post just now. I cannot even find the will to repost existing sonnets. Finally, after a few days I have come around–come to the realisation that I could at least write a short post explaining this.
Death. News of death. News of impending death. I am not a fan of death. Such news takes me aback. But… It is not me.
Mrs. Emeron and I are fine. Except for this difficult revelation.
David Emeron: Sonnets 