Sonnet

Winging It! [sonnet]

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winging

We think that all that’s us should be “in place” —
all neatly stored in boxes on a shelf;
until the day arrives you’re face-to-face
with all the secret layers of your self.

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Why? [sonnet]

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Why

Why should existences exist at all?
Why should eternity not now apply
to physicality [I know… the Fall].
Why is there even need for questions why?

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There is no Autumn [sonnet]

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there_is_no_autumn

There is no Autumn in my fertile heart,
where nothing falls but must ascend like heat.
My greensome coloured leaves do not depart
from twigs and branches. Summer’s not complete.

No frost can come my way to freeze the dew.
The crops sown in my fields no harvest need.
For melancholy moments now are few
and flowers in my soul won’t “go to seed”.

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Centrifuge [sonnet]

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centrifuge

The structure of the Universe dissolves
and I am riddled (w)ho(l)ly through with joy.
It took me by surprise; what it involves
is not what it had seemed. It’s all a ploy!

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Silent Sonnet [sonnet]

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silent_sonnet

Each time I try to write some wordage now,
I realise I’ve written it before.
I think the fertile ground I can replough,
until I realise that there’s no more.

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Solitudinarianism [sonnet]

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solitudinarianism

Further into obscurity he goes;
far from the madding crowd he overthrew.
The myst’ry of this life’s arpeggios
has cauterized his earthly field of view.

There’s nothing left to be or to extol
(apart from things which cannot now be seen).
Now knowing who he is and what’s his role,
he exited the room and The Machine.

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Romance is Dead (& Gone) [sonnet]

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dead_roses

Romance is dead. Therefore, long live true love!
When all worth saying has been said, I raise
my hat and bow my head, remove the glove
which romance uses well to mask love’s blaze.

Romance, I now pronounce you dead and gone.
You once amused me with your froth and dreams
when I was young and hung my hat upon
a plethora of June-Moon-Spoonly schemes.

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