While fascination, holding me aloft,
Contrived to make all people witness this
One miracle, its secrets introduce.
Tag Archives: Poetry
Monkey See, Monkey Doth…
It never ceases to amaze me just how many grammatical mistakes I miss. I wish there were more grammatic experts happening by who would deign to correct them. But… alas, I must find them–stumble upon them–myself.
Alas.
Sonnet: Lucky
How can it be that three such friends are blest
With symmetry sublime, doth fit with grace?
What joy, when maketh bonds, that do they see
Such lives so delicately interlace?
So beautifully sinful are they pressed
As each to one another, as they dance;
Yet faithful, and sublime felicity,
Doth somehow over all and each advance.
When first I saw them, to myself, professed
That they, with all my strength, would I protect;
And swore, to this, an oath of secrecy
An any, give me aid, must needs respect;
And thank Whate’er professéd deity
Who brought to light these blesséd, lucky, three.
Intro: If Whimsy doth Take Me
Whatever would the strictest consequence?
Whenever whimsy doth mee, for to take;
Where never doth reality abide.
Long answer to RLK….
My! All that from a short note (for me) on haiku!
Oddly striking in all of this: most of my poetry is freeverse, just not what I choose to publish. Early on though, my sonnet writing began. And, because I was emulating/idolizing great writers I most admired, and because my dearest loves it so, I began using (however imperfectly) Elizabethan and Early Modern English. Even then, I found my way to more modern English. You will see it here and there represented. Older forms of English can be more difficult because of the syllabic changes in verb conjugations. As such, modern English is rather more flexible which, of course, is why I use the more difficult form. Besides the obvious, it’s the greater challenge.
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Sonnet: Utopia
O Let us rant, O young, for soon we die,
Too old to matter, let us have our say;
For soon enough, your will your hand shall try;
Time cometh soon that might you have your day.
If you succeed, you’ll not respect the dead,
But jeer and mock us all within our graves;
But old are we, who’ve seen so many tread,
And end, as ill, their chosen path as slaves.
So time and time again, your plans will fail;
But ne’er will you remember how we warned;
By then, our warning will to no avail;
Nor, of us, memory, but were we scorned.
If honest, you would scorn yourselves as well;
Deep down, this brave new world, you knew were Hell.
Intro: Let us rant
Let us rant, you young,
for soon enough we will die,
too old to matter.
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David Emeron: Sonnets 