Sonnet III: Builders

So we live in a world that is better
Thus… and we live as all men ought to be.
It was done without deigning to fetter
Us… They have done it by setting us free.

And while man, a creator of beauty
Will… be compensed that his beauty may bloom;
But, the man who makes ugliness duty
Still… gains employment (by pushing a broom.)

And a man who will strive to build greatness,
Too… Shall be striven his greatness to build.
While his ugliness, failure, and hate, thus,
Who… shall be swept into labour, unskilled.

Run in fear! All is lost! You deceivers!
Know… The Romance, of these Knights, does return!

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

Sonnet II:

But shall thy youth’s proud beauty not yet wane,
Though fifty winters shall thy brow besiege;
Each furrow earned, a worthy harvest; gaining
Greater beauty each, for youth’s unease.

Thy treasure lieth deep in Wisdom’s care;
For all shall see, as bright as doth remain
Fair beauty’s lustful youth: Beyond compare,
Shall count thy beauty’s truth; and fond sustain

Those many or those few who might impute
Thee wisdom, beauty’s blood to thee compare;
Let thy succession, warm or aught, repute
Thee not, the better to be taught; for where

May please thy children wisdom to dilute;
Yet these, thy words, made wisdom beauty’s fruit.

This sonnet is part of a short, or
possibly at some point, very long
sequence; click here to read it all:

Sonnet: To a Friend

Surrounding all the visible of life
Are reds and violets of all creation.
Hidden there beyond all earthly sight,
These outer hues defy our expectation.

Wish I, friend, to show how this empowers;
And to give you all that can be seen.
But still I know, for you, there are those flowers
You would fear to touch and may demean.

I’d wish for you to see the beauty there
As well as all the beauty that you know
And know I do your love is true, your care
Is real although the places you will go

Are only fully present in the known
N’er knowing all the hues to which I’ve grown.


Sonnet II: Exiles

More tragic are those Gods who still remain.
Olympus fell; yet cast about Them thrice,
You’ve wrapped Them up in filthy sheets of ice;
And jeer that none will recognize Their Reign.

Though hidden in plain sight, so great remain
These Paragons of Beauty; Their Devices–
Their Sublime Creations–could entice,
Enlighten, and inspire, if Their Domain
Were not so hidden, frozen, and unclear.

Yet through your filth, such Gods might still be seen;
Though locked beneath a century’s demean.
If one unbidden eye should chance to turn,
A mortal soul might taintless beauty learn;
And this is what you meretricious fear.

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


Sonnet IX: My Sweet Savant

But rest thy racing mind, my sweet savant,
And know thine intellect may bring thee through
Thy fear and doubt, as any other want.
I would thou should but give this truth its due

Though oft wouldst thou believe this help untrue,
My dearest, my most charming, doubtful boy;
So long the list of thy solutions, drew
My mind, as easy thou wouldst reach for joy

And find it waits for thee. No other ploy
Couldst thou detect in me; for, as I were
Thy future, thou wouldst not my past destroy.
Take this I would thee know, and let it stir
Thy mind until occureth free of daunt;
And, if thou wouldst prefer: thy quickness flaunt!

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