#31- "The Pain Caused By Love"

When I see you my heart doth skip a beat

across a thousand miles of Love's great sea.

I see dark passion when our eyes do meet

As if your love were like lightning to me,

'Round the black, charred flesh of my broken heart

The frost sticks to me from your cold shoulder.

I would take to my throat and poisen dart

To spend my life with you and grow older.

But you always drive into me a stake

causing sorrow, grief, and terrible pain.

You! You seek only for my heart to break

into a thousand pieces you'll retain.

       Now I lie wounded by your weapon, strife,

       Unconscious in the ambulance of life.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Composed for a sonneteer contest on the subject of Love.  

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2nd place

Second place is all I'll ever amount too.

I can't live life knowing that.

The world is never ending, but its about too.

I'm sorry I can't stay and chat,

But the world has passed me by

And it didn't stop and help me.

It didn't even say hi.

Second place is all I ever be.

I can't get ahead in life

Not even in love.

How shall I end this strife?

When push comes to shove,

     I'll be in second place,

     With my hands on my face.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

oct. 18

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Sonnet 1

poem sequence

As I sit here thinknig about me and you,

All I can think about is your love.

I wish this love to be true.

I look to the sky for a sign from above.

People tell me it isn't right,

They tell me its wrong,

But I pray all through the night.

We danced each night to the same song.

Although my love is solemn

I want this love to grow.

I feel like I'm sinking to the bottom,

But unending love I will show.

    Although this love is unrequited now

    I will keep trying somehow.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

oct. 15

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Mon amour

Embrassez-moi avec assez d'amour pour remplir Pacifique

Et je me consacrerai à vous pour toujours

Ne me laissez jamais dans l'obscurite

Je vous attendrai toujours

Meme si il signifie que je ne serai jamais heureux

Vous valez la peine l'attente

Parce que je t'aime

Pour toujours et toujours

N'oubliez jamais que je t'aime

Patiemment, j'attendrai votre arrivee

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                                 THE BEACHCOMBER


                  The sand beneath his feet as he walks
                  Knows his footsteps, listens to his talks
                  He spends his days with the sand and sea
                  Roars with the ocean, he's content to be
                  Collecting driftwood and vacant shells
                  Watching ships lost in the swells
                  Wondering as seagulls soar overhead
                  Perhaps I should be up there instead

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Oft sighs the weary heart, not quite breaking,

Its many trials straining to the core

To be once more young without the aching,

To believe in love that lasts evermore.

Alas, time and experience have proved

All things meet their demise sooner than late.

Instead of wasting tears, 'twould behove you

To play the field rather than search a mate.

Take past experiences and turn them 'round;

Rejoice in knowing now the things you do.

Go out for pleasures -little joys abound-

And never mind the one love who'll be true.

These words of wisdom come from my rent heart

Which long awaited true love's fickle dart.

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Eventide Sonnet

What hast thou seen this mottled cloudy night

Pale ghost presiding o're the darkened earth

Whilst cities proud burned lanterns long and bright

Whilst flame tinged dusk to starry skies gave birth

What tidings foul and fortunes fair are writ

Across the hearts of men this inky eve

Do maidens fair beside their windows sit

Lamenting truly love's unravelled sleeve

What empires rose betwixt the paltry years

All through the dance of ages fleeting past

Whilst kings constructed castles lined with tears

Then crumbled swift too ill-construed to last

  In truth thou hast near bathed in lunar beams

  Each night of man in all its milky dreams


Author's Notes/Comments: 

After a year and a half of writing in fancy-free verse, i was forced to pen a sonnet for English.  The poem preceding is the unhappy result.

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33. Sonnet COGITUS. On "Sonnets From The Portuguese."

The rocks grew dark beside the lake,

cooling, held in the sand, still, alive,

taking on the same blue shade now, all five:

mountain, lake, sand, me, and rock.

Here in the just-lost-light, Time is caught.

The eye is not blind, yet trying to see, it cannot.

Feel the meeting margins of Time and Clay as they hover;

I am one in Nature, as its lover.

     they twirl and pause,

          and me they cause

               to state their plan :

                    "I think, therefore I am!"

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just walkin', kickin' sand, and thinkin'  .   .     .

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At Rome: Sculptor's Valediction

1.  (The Day After)


I did not want her as mere property.
Therefore, after she posed, I set her free.
But now a messenger has come to me
to say---Young Snaggle-Tooth, our Emperor,
has moved against the Christians, and that her
scorched body now lies in a common grave.
Because they thought that she was still a slave
(she did not claim her freedom as a right),
they tarred and burned her on a post, last night,
with others---torches lighting Nero's feast.
(No wonder that her brethren called him . . . Beast.)
That is as much for now as I have pieced
together from the words that runner said.
Charisma---how it stabs my soul---is dead.



2.  (A Week After)


This box contains preliminary sketches
I drew of her, to aid imagination;
and every word of our sole conversation
(but nothing there to tittilate Rome's "letches")
is safe upon a triply copied scroll
that I composed, just now, to ease my sorrow.
Yes, I know, well, how much my sculpture fetches;
and one of her would be more beautiful
than any that has formed beneath my hand.
But I will not set chisel to command
this block, today, nor will I try tomorrow,
or any day thereafter.  Understand:
what I have left of her, this precious part,
cannot be made more whole, despite my art.



3.  (A Month After)


I say to all---friend, patron, servant, crony:
receive this as my final testimony.
You see only a hulking piece of stone
unused, its possibilities unknown.
But I will keep it as a firm reminder
that, not here but in Heaven, I will find her
more beautiful than what these lines can tell,
more wonderful than any poetry
describes her.  And you have concluded well:
the faith she died for has converted me.
Salvation is a fact, and not mere story.
Although I look, now, as in darkened glass,
Christ's Kingdom comes (once came, it will not pass),
and there she lives, in Him, in fullest glory.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A triple sonnet on a historical fiction.

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