Category: sonnet
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Winter Walk: challenge poem #35
must be a dry landwhen right as rain means good I’m a wandering pilgrimwalking wildernesses bright as hellwinter rain feeling wrong as sinjudged by loss and stung by deathstagger through this barren monthfiery as arctic auroras in search of a new flowerto gift my morning-eyed loverand salve her shattered heartwhere we spread the ashesof our…
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Poem 14
I am thinking of time-blindness today:it’s a talent I use at work to while awayhours as my hands do what it is wetrained them: plugging this and that connectorone car per minute or thereabouts – me,I’m a million miles distant as my handsdance their intricate dances, conjectureand narrative and hasty judgement landsmy mind here there…
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Challenge Poem 13
there’s a gene in me wants to hibernateit is not the dog’s cancer-cough todaythat makes me want to stay abed, though thatdoes weigh my heart with utter gravity –it is the dropping temperature and dampof this Kentucky winter day. cold frontmoving in with wind and rain and tonightforecasted for a hard freeze. I’m secondshift, so…
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challenge poem 12
sometimes there’s a yearning. often. sometimesthe need hits too strong to submerge – you musthave a companion for your present debauch:morality does not figure in. Nojudgement -that is, condemnation, anyway –can touch the drunken, dancing sufi self.you dance and sing and no word is profane;you sing your song and dance life’s dance – profoundand sacred…
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Poem 9
oh historic asp of fortune, strike truemy breast and lay me low upon the ages!beside cleopatra, though no lowerpleb than I ever was born. strike true, asp!strike true that I may die with my beloved!strike true that I do leave this tortured worldbehind to the hands of anonymousothers who might or not love with passionall…
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Poem 8
what would a lion write of the hunter?what story would he tell – being hunted, didhe lead the hunter away from his pride?did he sacrifice himself to save his bride?what final thought went through his heart and head?did he think himself brave or the cowardas he fled from the realizationof a predator’s predator, his ownpredation…
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Poem 7
Too much knowledge exists to be truly wisein one lifetime. how were we to know? truthis but the carcass, feathers the facts thattailor the bird . . . what evidence revealswe all too often disregard – we of thesentimental persuasion, and victimsof formative faiths in our hostage years.Too much of faith remains to be truly…
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poem 6
it matters nothing that the screen is blankit matters nothing that the screen is filledthe flow of words, the stream of consciousness:do these matter? what matter? what meaningto find in these ancient letters – magicthat we scribble thus and it causes usto hallucinate in a predictablepattern we call reason or logic. yetreality abides not our…
Fringemonkey Scribbles 