03.08.07
The Seed Packet: a new sonnet.
This is my first ever completed sonnet! I’m so proud of myself. I drew off of the natural observational style of Frost; though I’ve not studied his works in depth, I had his style in mind, at least vaguely, throughout the writing of this poem. As with all of my others, this is but a first draft. It’s probably going to change at least slightly. I hope you enjoy! Also: if I find time tonight, I’ll try to finally knock out that Dustin Kensrue review. I’ve been absorbing it, and it will be an interesting review.
The Seed Packet
The green shoot stretches from its teardrop seed
Its tendrils coil calmly towards the sun
Infused with life, it holds the ground it’s won,
In my small garden where I walk to breathe.
A flower blooms before a month has gone,
A pumpkin, plump and orange, is on the way
It grows so slowly, swelling day by day
Though its mass grows burdensome it carries on.
Until the day I find it slaughtered fresh
Cut from its cord by the ants that lived beneath
They’ve razed it by the stem and gnawed the leaves;
For dollar seeds, my heart beats with such stress.
With rusted trowel in hand I cover up
This abortion, the remnants of my love.
Oil On Glass
Oil on Glass
A photo frame with her fingerprint on the glass pane,
A beautiful couple, smudged over with her own oil.
She can’t remove it, but even a water drop, so minute,
With time and toil, she thinks, eats through marble.
But the picture never becomes clear,
Growing ever more deluded instead
With each pass of her shroud over the glass;
Becoming part of the picture, irremovable, fixed, blurred,
History
Something you’re only able to attempt to leave behind,
Bringing back bitterly by way of struggling to abolish,
Like digging up the dead just to burn the bodies.
But nobody, no body, really ever forgets.
The frame lies flat face down now,
Their faces forever averted by her mistake.
02.26.07
Sonnet: Fleur-de-lis (Incomplete)
(This is my first shot at writing a sonnet.)
My fleur-de-lis is blue most all the time
Though now she spreads her petals to the sun;
Tomorrow’s clouds are deep and sure to come
For Winter’s weather’s harsh and never kind.
I call her Lola, for she reminds me so
Of cooler days in Love’s embracing grasp
When fogged up windows gave away the act
That set you free, and sent me out of control.
02.22.07
An Unassuming Beauty
An Unassuming Beauty
You started out so precious, my little caterpillar.
So gentle, so quiet, so loving and free.
You clung close to me,
Only falling when I flung you
Or brushed you aside, a pest
Failing to feel
What you felt for me.
Your skin crawls. You crawl beneath my skin.
The times,
and I,
have made you cold
despite the weather’s warmth.
I know you’re converting, moving up,
Moving on.
You’ve stopped moving now, oh please breathe for me!
Where’s the beautiful one I fell for?
I’ll wrap you in a cocoon of arms
Hold your grace beside my every ugly fiber
And lift you out of the darkness I’ve forced you
To weave yourself into.
I know you’ll be leaving me,
Your brightly colored wings are showing now.
And I’ve got nothing to do but let you to free
I’d have to kill to keep you down.
You’re flying fast from me,
Leaving this shell that screams
More of my doing than it does of yours.
