Sonnettics

I woke from what I thought was just a dream
Unsure if I had woken, like a chick
That sleeps within an egg. Where it can seem
That certainty is just a bloody trick!
I “cheep” within my shell, but no one hears
My little songs or even cries for help
They represent my deepest, darkest fears
I’m not a chick at all; I’m just a whelp
But dog or bird, my noises are ignored
My dreams are cacophonic when I sleep
I hope my dreams become a true accord
I hope there’s peace and beauty I can keep
But sleep without a dream is pleasant too
If I awake and find I’m next to you.

I used to think I had a lot to lose
And then I thought I lost it all, and more
As if the things I thought that I would choose
Were all the things my choices would be for
I told my friend I lost a lot of life
She smiled and touched my shoulder with her hand
I know she knew I felt the pain and strife
That lives beyond the voice of our command
She asked me what I really thought I lost
I stopped and gave her question time to rise
Like bread from dough I kneaded and I tossed
And then I looked into her precious eyes
I saw the aswer there; I had to sing
I said, “I didn’t lose a goddamned thing!”

I used to think it mattered what I wrote
But now I’m not so sure; they’re only words
The words are all around me, and I float
In filthy water, navigating turds
I thought that Peace and Beauty might be found
Within this sea of life; I swam across
When all I had to do was swim around
And just avoid the waste and fecal loss
I wanted someone with me, so I paused
And treaded water, waiting for a friend
I didn’t know the tempest I had caused
Within my teacup, hoping to transcend
The tides of life, the loneliness, the turds
With what I wrote, but hey, they’re only words!

To find my shattered pieces in a year
Was more than hard; it took a strength I lost
But strength was next to beauty; both were near
The place I went to search and count the cost
Of how my shattered pieces seemed to be
The sum of everything I’d thought I had
But friends declared the pieces were not me
At least not all, nor were the pieces bad
Each quatrain, couplet, line . . . oh hell, each word
Was more than just a broken song I wrote
To say, “I am a sonnet” is absurd
It’s volta stops and sticks within my throat!
I find my shattered pieces on the ground
While metaphoric flowers grow around.

She must have thought I flirted by design
Because I saw the ink upon her arm
Her tat was yin and yang, without the line
Of forms opposed, but didn’t break her charm
She said it wasn’t tacky; I agreed
It wasn’t just flirtatious; It was true
So what if she was pretty? I’ll concede
That pretty girls need tats and sonnets too!
I showed her Courtney’s heart, to help dispel
Dichotomy in words I used; I smiled
I found the beauty in her words as well
Her yin, my yang were tame; her tat was wild!
Flirtations may be fun, but tats are art
And words on tats are where flirtations start!

I need to touch the softness of your thighs
My hands have never felt this way before
I need to hear the sustenance of sighs
Invite me as you tell me: “Give me more!”
I need to give you more erotic love
Than Eros gave to Psyche in the myth
Although it’s not a myth I’m thinking of
I need to feel the truth of you, forthwith
I don’t remember leaving you alone
And yet, I need to find you once again
I need to give you pleasure, hear you moan
No matter where we touch, no matter when
I need to slide within you when you’re wet
And feel erotic love I won’t forget!

This reverie I’ve chosen fits my heart
I find it makes me happy as I sit
Although we sit too many miles apart
Dear Psyche, I can feel your soul in it
My reverie becomes the place we meet
I hold you in my spirit’s heart and arms
Within my soul, your comfort is replete
With warmth. I feel your warmth; I see your charms
My reverie with Psyche takes me deep
Within the warmth of comfort I have found
I’ve found a jewel I’d really like to keep
Each facet shines her light; her rays abound
My reverie is joyful when she’s here
I hope her love will never disappear.

I told her that I Love her, and I do
I want to give her me, my heart, my soul
A perfect life can be imperfect too
One perfect life is one imperfect goal
To give my soul to her, I’ll take her in
Like plants absorb the rain that helps them grow
My growth will start the moment we begin
To overcome the pain I used to know
To cleanse my pain and give my love my heart
I’ll open it and take her heart in mine
Like drawing near where warmth can find a start
Within the that place where chaos finds design
I Love her, and I’m hers; I want to be
Completely in her life; it’s there I’m free.

I hear your voice, like honey on my heart
I feel your words, like warmth that’s sticky sweet
We’ve grown together, since we’ve been apart
Dichotomy was never so complete!
Complete me with emotions, undefined
Define your thoughts; proclaim them when we speak
Like poetry is frequently combined
With complex sounds that makes its words unique
You said that we’re a complicated mess
I like to think we’re just a metaphor
A metaphor that’s messy, but I guess
If life was perfect, life would be a bore!
A complicated mess of honeyed hearts
Is more than sweetened warmth of fits and starts.