Sonnet
Hiatus [sonnet]
From now until my heart can take no more,
my lips are sealed; my pen bereft of ink.
My soul’s less sturdy than it was before;
my wild, demented brain too scaRRed to think.
Sonnet on the General Election
She told me people died so I could vote.
At which I said: “O, what a bloody waste!
Forgive me if I do not sugarcoat
my words”. She stared at me, all stony-faced.
Dark Horse [sonnet]
She killed the horse before the race began.
“It’s no use, for I know he’ll never win;
he lost before”, she said. “And if he can
so thwart me once, I can’t again begin”.
The 3 S’s [sonnet]
With just three S’s standing on the stage
he treads here in this theatre on a sphere
[he has no scripted lines upon the page],
his actor’s part is called The Mutineer.
Millstone [sonnet]
A millstone had been hung around my neck;
some several years it dangled slyly there.
I fooled myself it’s just a tiny speck
of dirt — ignored my state of disrepair.
2 + 0 + 1 + 7 = 1 [sonnet]
It’s time to clear the air — to wipe the slate;
to cleanse our lives from interfering strands;
to free ourselves from those who vacillate —
from those who drain us with their vain demands.
Healing the Shadow-World [double-sonnet]
“So how am I to deal with this”, he said.
“With love”, said I. “It is the only way”.
That wasn’t where his feet were primed to tread.
He wanted his revenge, I heard him say.
And then another one looked in my eyes,
eschewing men and living as a nun.
The bruises on her soul were no surprise
(her father’s fists the love in her did stun).
The Source of Love [words & sonnet]
It’s a life-changing epiphany to realise that when we love someone, that love is not a thing that started when they came into our life. The other person merely made manifest what is already within us constantly (though mostly we don’t see it with our hearts). For in everyone there is a golden box of love which can be opened wide, or closed, kept locked and in the dark, if we so choose. Various experiences that we have in life cause us to make defensive choices about that golden box which leave us feeling loveless and longing for a love which we falsely think can only come through someone else. Thus, when some other guy or girl turns up in our “love life”, we’re riding on a high and become dependent on them to experience love and are fearful of being abandoned (again, a feeling which goes back to bad early life experiences). If they desert us or go off with someone else, we then believe that love has left us too and we feel heartbroken, utterly bereft and alone. But this is a terrible illusion! For there is already a powerhouse of love within us which is available to be experienced constantly.
Dangling on a Single Thread [sonnet]
So many years since perfume graced my nose;
I’ve now forgotten how to bathe in skin.
No fecund business in that garden grows;
no longer would I know where to begin.
Glimpses [sonnet]
The truly honeyed parts of life for me
are in the glimpses gifted to the soul.
For as I age they come more frequently —
shattering shafts of light which make us whole.
If you’re intrigued to know what these could be
(to know what curtains angels may remove)
they only flap them briefly so we see
what lies beyond all words (their world to prove).
The Naked Troubadour 