Sonnet V: All About Me

Again, doth stir in pretty slumber so,
But slight, her waking; dreameth then of he
Whose bearing and whose presence seemed unique.
And he, of small advantage, seemed as wise;

Yet hardly did aware, he seem, nor know;
Was more, that either view, than blind decree.
About him still, so more than just mystique;
Yet not conceit, as others she’d surmise.

And of his expertise, might nothing show;
Unless such confidence she chanced to see.
And might she little know of such technique,
Unless through conversation might surprise.

Though not precisely modest, I’d agree,
My love wouldst speak my greatness (most unwise!)

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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Today I tried something new…

…and checked something off my long, long, long list. I have wanted to write some kind of series or epic based on Rudyard Kipling’s “The Gods of the Copybook Headings.” This was a prophetic piece much neglected, partly because hardly anyone now alive knows what a copybook is–or was–thanks, in large part, to the widespread implementation of marxist education theory in government schools, and in fact, in most other schools as well. Continue reading

完璧 – Explanation for David

perfection is seen reflected
in the blade of my sword

greens and golds
melt on the blade
with a thin edge of blue

snow swirling,
resting, melting,
white glimmers,
now red as it reflects
early blooms of quince

blood rust, sun gold
seasons change
shades of grey

glints of starlight and full moon
in the blackness after midnight

an ever changing picture
less than two inches wide

via 完璧 – Explanation for David.

Sonnet II: By My Love’s Sweet Words

By any song, in night, that dost thou sing,
If with thy lips shalt sing, my dearest one;
Or make to sing my soul, thy touch doth bring;
Or strong thine arms surroundeth, sing my heart.

And when doth sing thy smile, to heal, to rest;
And sing to fret the tyme away, undone
By song; yet still the finer am I blest
By music, by thy words, and by thine art.

But only thus, thy song shouldst bid me sleep–
Thy song, my shelter, sweep away the sun,
I beg of thee thy promised song, and weep
That shouldst thou hold mee fast, and ne’r us part

Until thy quiet fight–when hast thou won–
Requite the day, that thou expressed:  Depart!

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

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Intro 2: My Words, Her Words

By my love’s sweet words
Am I, once again, inspired.
She bringeth magic!

“By any song thou dost sing, my dearest one.
To heal, to rest, or to fret the tyme away
Only thus, that thou shouldst hold fast
And defy the daylight.”

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