Sonnet XII: How Am I Kept

When doth she strive to him in comfort keep;
And strive, withal, her heart, and sweet, her hands;
To soft his dreams, so gentle on their way,
His thoughts to soothe and calm his restive mind,

That quick across the vasty star-fields leap;
So never may alight the shifting sands
‘Pon any mote to pause that might delay,
Of all his thought, its whirling dance combined.

For, never doth requite his mind in sleep;
Not even as the God of sleep demmands’.
To wake him, doth she hear temptation say;
Yet I’m, to her illusion, not inclined….

Desire, thou bent all deep toward what commands’
My peace; for next the day, this night would find!

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

Permalink

Advertisements

Intro 12: All of This, Her Love

I strive within my heart and out through my hands
To soft your dreams on their way,
And to soothe your mind
That skips so quickly across the vast star-fields,
Never lighting
Upon any mote that might give pause
To the whirling dance
Of your thoughts that never stop
Even in sleep.

To wake you is temptation
But I never fall prey to simple illusion.
My desires bend all toward
Your peace.

Permalink

Sonnet XI: Her Peace

So dreameth now my love again in sleep
And smileth angelic, she; though dream
Not angels, as His children may create;
As we alone were from His image made.

And deep, she doth within, such wonder keep;
Such visions, perfect in her care, doth seem.
My love so doth me gift, in perfect state,
This firmament some deity forbade;

Wherefrom I am forbidden still to leap
And soar and glide, so bright above, supreme,
So realised, hath she made, though inchoate,
Where she, these gardens of delight, hath played.

But still I weep, that safety, my esteem
May not create, when demons there invade.

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

Permalink

Sonnet VI: If I Should Sleep

Perchance I slumber, whilst she watcheth mee;
So deeply do I sleep; nor chance to wake.
Though doth, to touch, she lovingly adore?
Oblivious, I still yet slumber on.

How now, to look upon me whole, doth she?
I sleep; so warm a breath the night wouldst make.
Doth she, my contours, lovingly explore?
So doth my rest, so shan’t I stir thereon.

And doth my love withal abound such glee,
Caresses deeply striven, then partake?
Though all, should I desire to wake, the more,
I barely stir; though should I, whereupon.

But see! my love but breathe my name; forsake
Mine oft adoréd sleep, do I, anon.

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

Permalink

So it occurs to me that…

…this entry (spaces removed):

as i slept
by a veranda
open to the sea
on a cool night
just right
to let

the wind
and moonlight
and the stars
blow quietly
past me
as i slept

… is rather a sonnet of sorts if two (acutally quite releveant) lines are added to each verse:

as i slept
just inside
by a veranda
open to the sea
on a cool night
just right
to let

the wind
and moonlight
and the stars
blow quietly
past me
caressing
as i slept