Early this afternoon…

…I began feeling a bit under the weather.  And in a few minutes, I will settle down into my bed with my laptop and something fizzy to soothe my throat, and write the answer to Will Shakespeare’s sonnet II; which prompt, I have already posted.  I do like doing these; however, now I have two sequences that are essentially notes to myself.  I’m not sure how to characterise that.

Also: I, of late, have been thinking I should number all my sonnets.  I am not sure the numbering system I should use, however.  There are the short sequences and there should be some method for making them sequential whether or not I add to them later or not.  Still… that type of enumeration, in and of itself, might be confusing as well.  Perhaps I should just use plain sequential numbers and keep things in date order.  That, or I could use two different systems depending on what type of cataloguing I, or another reader, might like to do.

Kirkpatrick” type numbers and perhaps “Shorto” (rather than “Longo“) numbers.  This is a reference to Domenico Scarlatti, whose sonatas have three different numbering systems, mostly rather confusing, with Kirkpatrick being the most used–and which puts Scarlatti’s sonatas in sequential order by date as well as can be done.

Regarding my sonnets, these ‘K’ numbers would be chronological simply as: K1, K2, K3, &c.

The ‘S’ numbers would be Chronological as S1, S2, S3, &c; except where sequences are involved, I would then, perhaps, note the place where sonnet number one of a sequence first appears (whether it is out of order or not) and then, for example:

If S2 marks the first of a sequence, it will be numbered S2.1, and the next in the sequence would be S2.2, S2.3, &c, (all the way up to S2.154 or more if necessary!)  These would not indicate very well how many sonnets in total there might be, but the ‘K’ numbers would be for that purpose.

I might even try ‘P’ numbers also, for “Petrucci,” or whatever type of pasta the third system for classifying Scarlatti’s sonatas is named; which might group all sonnets by subject, perhaps in a similar way as the ‘S’ numbers.  Very well… I looked it up, it is, in fact, “Pestelli.” Sounds delicious, perhaps tossed with seafood and Alfredo sauce.  This is making me hungry.  “Feed a cold,” do they say, after all.

This would make the mnemonic for these three systems fairly straight forward.  If ‘K’ numbers are simple enumerators, and ‘S’ numbers are sequence based, and ‘P’ numbers are subject related; then we might say “Count, Sequence, Passion,” which would help one remember which is which:  K for count (or Kount), ‘S’ for sequence, and ‘P’ for passion (hence subject).

I suppose I could also use the unique post id that wordpress provides.  However, this, I have found does not exist on every screen wherein one might want or need it.

I could, of course, leave such enumeration to posterity, but I find myself needing and wanting such numbers now, for a variety of reasons.

Sonnet I: Alighted Grace

But sleek, one shape as wondrously soft,
More perfect in its drape than might one think;
And such, should be perfection held aloft,
That by this, would its height so make one sink.

For perfectly it thwarts ones every thought;
So pliant-smooth it courts by its design,
That brought so every instinct as it ought;
Requires nary thought to intertwine.

More alien than truly might one guess;
As fell another species though from sky;
Alighted grace, such beauty as would bless
The altar of my sleep, this place whereby,

As master and as slave, I feel anew;
Each moment strave my every wish come true!

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

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Another Example of Embedded Haiku

Whatever Thy Perfection Doth Require

I close my longing eyes; envisage thee;
Reflection manifesting not mine hands;

Imprisoned lightning, countenanced with fire;
Shot through, withal, mine every wish commands’.
Extremity, thy tapered waist’s degree;

Impossible perhaps, if not sublime;
And yet, sublime, thy perfect form–admire
This hourglass, although confoundeth time.

Nor could reflected shadowing foresee
Such helplessness within, as now I feel;
Restrained, regarding mine embraced desire

Ensnaring; captor, caught without appeal;
This weal of metaphor thy warder barred;
Imprisonment inspired such a guard.

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

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Sonnet: A Key

I love thee so, my sweetest, do I close
Up my romantic soul, and lock away
Its delicate embrace of thee I chose.

And for your sake, my children, shall I hide
Away its key; that none should see its truth
While every day I brave this worldly sway.

And yet, for me, the romance of my youth
Is sore alive, in all that I provide;
As, for thy comfort, every tree I fell;

Until–my wish at last–shall come the day
When all are safe, and everything is well.
My calloused hands, mine axe, shall lay aside;

This key, my soul’s romantic door, display
To thee, and to our children, love and pride.

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Sonnet I | RL King:A Written World

Does your world spin wild through black of night?
Do you crave my hold, my kiss, my embrace?
Do you ache in desire, my lips to trace?
Do you look and see, my flicker of light?
Do I touch your soul, does it burn, ignite?
Could you have loved this splinter of my grace?
Would you hold me…if tears streamed on my face?
Tell me you would not, else, what a sad plight.

For, I would love thee, ever and a day,
What fool threw away this one that I see?
Did they not see the strength of your fierce heart?
To feel your breath as it moves upon me,
Caress your soul with mine, ever there stay…
You are my passion…you, dear love, my art.

via Sonnet I | RL King:A Written World.

Sonnet: More Luck

Canst not thou fascination herewith see;
With fascination whereunto I saw;
That once herewith so simple, and with awe,
That actually such as this might be?

Art thou, to look upon, as fine as she?
Canst thou, as fine a work of art–or draw
A thing–as this, unveiled, without flaw?
Doth it pale in comparison to thee?

And art thou one, of which were only two?
Or art thou one, if such were only three?
Hast thou, among so many, seen, as  me,
Perfection, took to pen, to sculpt? Or drew,
For, such a thing is finer still; to be
So fine, that redefined a thing, as true.

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