A Cloud of Ragged Butterflies (new sonnet)
Sometimes when weariness of world takes hold,
I cry out, “Why should I remain on earth?
What point in watching tragedy unfold?”
(Forgetting just how much one’s life is worth).
Married to All Nature [new sonnet]
Now, once there was a time on this strange earth
when women loved a man for his fine words —
a time when poets’ hearts were viewed as worth
as much as gold. But now they favour herds.
The Blasted Face of Darkness [new sonnet]
Down deep within the cesspit pool of Hell
(by “Hell” I mean the world where demons lurk;
one which we cannot see – it’s parallel),
Beelzebub had on his face a smirk.
Sonnet to Solitudinarianism
Further into obscurity he goes;
far from the madding crowd he never knew.
The mystery of this life’s arpeggios
has cauterized his earthly field of view.
Those Days Will Soon Be Gone [new sonnet]
You thought you could enjoy a quiet life
where no one whinged or got into your face.
You had forgotten global barbs are rife
and how this world’s well-nigh bereft of grace.
The Torn Cardigan [double-sonnet]
So, Summer starts to end, as birds can tell:
The pinnacle of majesty’s been reached.
When Autumn sounds with its clandestine bell,
the gate between the seasons has been breached.
Out of my Box [new sonnet]
There comes a point one sees life as a speck
of fabricated time in ballet shoes.
Thus, poised in arabesque, I stick my neck
out gently, seeking other avenues.
Recurring Dream [new sonnet]
“What pleases you?”, she said, her voice aglow.
(Her arms were smiling, and her eyes were too).
ME: “Gentleness and quiet strength which flow
my way, and warmth, are what I love from you”.
A Flag is a Rag – 3 Sonnets in the Aftermath of Independence Day
You speak of “independence” on this day
as if you live a life of freedom won,
then fly your flag — a mere rag on display.
(You’re only “brave” when crouched behind your gun).
A Sonnet for All Soldier Boys (& Girls)
Dear soldier boy, there’s nothing to defend.
Your masters have decided what has worth.
(Dear soldier girl, what irony to send
lives to their death. The womb’s for giving birth!).