Sonnet: Truth Unquantifiable

When life has given all Her many gifts;
Whenever can the measure of these things;
Those gifts alike to paupers and to kings;
The very blessings, all, that spirit lifts;

Be counted up among the many rifts
And twists, and turns; and bold accounting springs
Forth only optimistic numbers? Brings
The news in harmonies and umbers. Shifts

The essence of attention to the day
For which this great accounting brings its news;
And which a man, forgetting not to pray,
Will promise Her he never shall abuse,
In truth unquantifiable, the way
He finds himself inspired by Her muse.

Permalink

Intro: Through Eternity I Hear

Through eternity I hear your call now
Clearly

As I could not when I was a young girl;
When weather stations, and ice-lollies,
Hot summer side-walks, forts and spaceships
Consumed our imaginations.

Through eternity I hear your call now
Clearly

Having listened always to its faint echo
When on the road or on the stage,
The needs of the family, tears and solitude,
Consumed my imagination.

Through eternity I hear your call now
Clearly

Since you brought me home to you
To lay down my tired heart and rest
In this household made out of friends of our youth
Which now consumes my imagination.

Through eternity I hear your call now
Clearly.

Permalink

Continue reading

Sonnet I: To the Approaching Dawn

I fear not that my words will never grace….
And yet I dread this fast approaching dawn;
I see the minutes and the hours pass;
For dawn is yet the only constant thing
That rips me so unkindly from my pace.

Though never is my reason thus forgone;
This Lighted Spectre haunts me–this Impasse–
This Waking Nightmare from beneath will spring.
Beneath the Earth this Pale Rider waits,
His Fiery Horses chafing; will have drawn

His Chariot’s Searing Livery–unsurpassed
In glory, any but Hyperion:
Shall stream His Burning Light; and gaining fast,
Will into Hypnos’ Waiting Arms, me cast.

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

Permalink

Intro: Who Would Stand

Would you stand up? Would I? If one lived while others fell, wouldn’t it be better to have done what one could? Would it not have been better to have died if one had n0t?

This was from a dream last night.

A dream in summer,
But only one long sentence.
Diagram, someone?

I am not sure why, but I cannot resist doing that. Be warned: I hide these within paragraphs, unindented. Can you find them all?

Permalink

Sonnet: Blessings of God’s Anointed

Gaze upon me, O Lovely, and beware,
Or as thy frosts unfairly come, rejoice.
Fair-play with fortune will confound Despair
That, hideous with pride, hath shown its voice.

For never-resting, God’s anointed here
Excel: to verse thy numbered days, to bear
This work, to lend thee summer; and to year
Thy days, and keep thee and thy children fair.

In all our seasons, prisoners are we–
As checked, and sapped, and pent, as tyrants fear
All eyes the beauty we distil may see–
Who gift these days to winter they who sneer:

Though thieving Time all substance yet destroys,
We left thee more than wretched Time enjoys.

The final draft of this sonnet became part
of a short, or possibly at some point, very long
sequence; click here to read it all:

Permalink