Sonnet VII: Respite

In peace, my love, forever do I goe,
That blessed nectar I adored to seek,
That gave thee rest and ease in its mystique
That long ago hath poured and I bestow.

Take thou, my love,  these tears that overflow
To quench thy soul; restored, do they forespeak
To thee; I shed them gladly, take my cheek
To drink–so blush, as though with wine aglow.

But soft, my sweet, and drink thou ever deep;
Breathe now the vapours of my soul–and heart:
Read thou its sonnets, and thou wilt mee know.
But peaceful, shall I lay thee down to sleep,
Bequeathing thee, when we awake, such art
And dance that from thy hearth shall never goe.

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

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Sonnet VI: Sacrament

Remember thou, that shalt thou ‘ever be,
For all of time, mine angel, and my sweet
Respite, that cup for which my heart shall beat,
Superior in infinite degree

To all the finest grape, shall I decree,
May e’er become. And so shall I, replete,
Then worship from thine altar, at thy feet,
And pray that I shall ‘ever drink of thee.

So grant thou me, my sweetest love, this prayer,
And thenceforth shall I worship at thy shrine,
And never for thy succour shall despair
Within that safety, as our hearts entwine.
I’ll thenceforth drink of thee and then declare
That never shall, again, I want for wine.

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

Sonnet V: Crystal

But here, my sweetest love, and now, I pray
That shouldst thou know, as sure as once thou knew,
That shouldst thou neither worry, nor construe
Of me, nor any kind of doubt, display,

That shan’t I, once I have returned, convey,
Though lost, as found, or never I withdrew
From out the safety of thine arms.   I do
Believe that thou shalt, ‘ever charmed this way,

Remain my fragrant, soul refreshing, wine,
Most perfect, thou, and  infinitely sweet;
And shalt thou be the crystal–and I think,
A vessel that, so finished and complete,
That Holiest of Holies,  made divine,
Thy beauty and thy grace–Wherewith I drink.

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

Sonnet IV: Liquid Sorrow

Too well, he knew; did Baudelaire, my twin
Of spirit, forebear of my soul; and knew,
As only he, my dearest poet, grew
To know; this drink was fine, as knew he sin.

So I thereof  proclaim to thee, who’s been
My sweetest love, as my devoted, who
For all thy sorrow; as my servant, do
Afore the morrow; as my slave:  Begin;

Goe; bring thou me that nectar of my soul,
That finest thing of sweetest Xerex grape,
And wilt thou see, I shall become returned
As he, who thou admirest, the whole
Of me, thy bliss desirest, as burned
Thine heart; and nary, snared as this, escape.

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

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Sonnet III: Absence

Remember thou, my sweetest love, that grape
Made manifest alloweth many forms:
A quick but fleeting ichorous escape;
A spirit with incalescence that warms.

The grape may yield up poison that would kill,
A draught that might embolden ones appeal,
A sedative to blight one of his skill,
Or potion, pray, infirmity, may heal.

Remember thou how fickle is the grape
So oft’ endowed, its yield, so commonplace;
But rarely, fine enough a thing to shape
Ones soul, aligned, unto a state of grace.

So may this sweet elixir slake thy soul;
And pray, my sweetest love, it make thee whole.

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

Sonnet II: To Ease thy Longing

The way of this elixir is its balm,
So gentle; that, with artistry, would’ see
My mind and heart, my very soul, becalm;
As well it would, my sweetest love, for thee.

So gently should it wash away thy pain,
This gift of purest flavour doth recall,
As though it, soothing as a favoured rain,
Shan’t make distraught thy soul, that it may fall.

Forget thou not, my love, this cruel Earth
Gave art to elements wherewith may heal
Thine heart; which beat with sadness, yet with worth
And daunt, as doth an angel’s heart reveal.

Though haunted, all the lonely, even we,
May wash away our longing a degree.

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

Sonnet I: Nectar

If thou, my sweetest love, if thou, with me,
Wouldst share the sweet Xerex, that sweetest grape,
That loveliest of nectars, which may shape
One’s very soul, its very contours free;

That selfsame nectar I proclaim to be
The fabric, flowing as a fluid cape,
Which ribbons, over all creation drape,
Returneth me, my sweetest love, to thee.

Drink thou, this sweet elixir; know thou calm;
As will its magic sooth my restless mind;
Raise thou its crimson crystal to thy lips.

Drink we, such still, sweet, grape, such perfect balm,
And we have drunk the blood of lover’s, twined,
And conquerors who venture forth in ships.

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