Celebrate the moments of your lives!

Today’s sonnet is, in fact a tribute to Turkish coffee, and was one of the drafts I had floating about the top of my post list, spoiling my view.  My sweet wife laughed aloud when, after first telling her what the project was to be, I subsequently read her the result.  I did warn her that it was quite severe considering the subject matter at hand.  Her first coherent words were:  “Celebrate the moments of your lives!” followed by another round of laughter.  Continue reading

Both Statist-Communists and Anarcho-Capitalists Fall in Love

(oft-times with each other :  )

This short post is in response to an off-line question; and this, however cryptic, is the answer to why I will no longer post political asides, regardless of subject, on this blog.  In essence, such subjects are decisive, whereas Love, and Related Topics ™ bring people together, make them closer, cause them to understand one-another.

My sweetheart…

…left me the most beautiful thing on my Xerex sequence. I really thought it the fitting and most perfect end and answer to the thing. So beautiful. So now the sequence has seven sonnets. It sounds to me together like wedding bells and wedding vows and honeymoons and love everlasting.

And … what am I to do now with the order of things. Should I move the whole Xerex sequence–all seven brothers–up to the front to be with its sister? Something along those lines will have to be done, I think.

Xerex, Coda: Here…

…will you find the first version as it had been penned originally so many decades ago.  The dotted lines have been added to indicate whence the sonnets come:

O, my sweetest love,
Share thou with me
The sweet Xerex

Which I do proclaim
As the nectar which
Returneth me to

Thee, my sweetest love.
Quiet my restless mind
With the still, sweet

Grape which is the
Blood of lovers and
Of conquerers.
—————————
Such is the stuff
That would quiet my
Mind and my heart

For thee, and ease
Thy pain easily
With a pure flavor,

And with little regret
From thyne Angels’ heart.
Remember thou, my love

That even in this
Cruel
Earth there art

Those elements which
Heal in their right
Proportions.
———————
Remember thou, my sweetest
Love, that many
Forms Are yielded

Up by the Fickle
Grape: The subjective
Grape yields

Up poison and
Medicine for the
Soul.
———————–
As Baudelaire, my
Father, my twin,
My dearest

Poet knew this drink was
Fine; so shall I
Proclaim: My sweetest

Love, As my
Devoted, As my
Servant, As my

Slave; bring thou
Me of the sweetest Xerex
Grape and I

Shall become returned
To that which
Thou most admireth.
————————–
But, that thou shouldst
Know:  Once I have To
thine arms return’d

Thou shalt be my
Wine and my
crystal.
————————–
Thou shalt be
Mine Angel–superior
To all the grape is

Able to be.
I shall thenceforth
Drink of thee,

My love and I
Should never again want
For wine.

Much has in me been yielded up by that fine grape so many long years ago.

Sonnet III: Her Praise

Her heart, so prayeth she, be still, this dream,
Wherein such favour, she recalleth, find;
Such things so little are, as may surprise:
So often unexpected, his attire;

In candlelight, he doth angelic seem
To glow, as though with Heaven’s light combined;
So oft remembered, sherry coloured eyes,
To her, do seem to light the world entire;

And dreameth of his words with such esteem,
So thrilling, when of heart, or though of mind;
Then beautiful his music, as so wise
She thought his words, as ever both inspire.

Supreme, thy praise doth find me; and so kind,
I blush to prize, my love–my heart’s desire.

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

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