Sonnettics

This is a Pushkin Stanza, or a Russian Sonnet based on something that really happened to me in Moscow.

I looked down on a Moscow street
My treasure hunt to perpetrate
“Walk to a treasure now, thou feet!”
The Metro mocked me: “Don’t be late!”
I thought I saw a silver shine
With diamonds that I thought were mine
High-heeled shoes like a shiny pearl
Treasures worn by a pretty girl
I told her: “Those are pretty shoes.”
She thanked me with her eyes and smiled
Pretty diamonds will be exiled
By one who searches dusty views
I look up now, above the ground
Where pretty treasures can be found

On visiting the home of Anna Akhmatova and taking offense at the recorded tour guide refering to non-poets as the “average man Philistine.”

I’m just a poet; these are just my words
I like the way they sound like little songs
They’re not the little songs of little birds
But I decide where every word belongs
Yes, Anna Akhmatova was one too
They’ve filled her rooms with words she never said
The “average man” a “Philistine.” Who knew?
Her home could be offensive, now she’s dead
Was Anna like Delilah? I think not.
My hair’s too short for anyone to cut
My blood smells like the bloody words I’ve got
You think I’m full of shit? I’ll tell you what
My silence is the sound of poet’s grace
But only Anna’s words should fill this place.

They twisted gold in beauty like Versaille
In Peterhof, where Catherine made her home
And Peter built a simpler home nearby
The Gulf of Finland pulled his heart to roam
I wondered why the maids above the doors
Exposed one golden breast. To welcome me?
I walked across the wooden parquet floors
Before the taking of a toast and tea
I heard him; let us go then, you and I
Go see the gold that decorates the walls
In mirrors that Queen Catherine hung nearby
Let’s listen to the way the beauty calls
I know that Peter heard its sultry voice
While Catherine made another, golden choice.

Dichotomy is shadows in the light
Love’s chandelier casts shadows when it’s lit
There may not be a reason, but there might
I hope my presence near you isn’t it
The sun reveals opacity in some
Transparency in others can be seen
A sunrise means a sunset too will come
I won’t get into what their colors mean!
When light invades the shadows of my room
I bid the shadows all a fond adieu
My lights announce the darkest shadow’s doom
And bring the words I’m seeking into view
Dichotomy in light can still be found
For shadows only come when light’s around.

The Hermitage has priceless works of art
Within its priceless rooms, through priceless doors
Mosaic pictures play a priceless part
Beneath grand pillars made of priceless ores
Let light within the Hermitage reveal
The need for light to show us art is true
It also gives the masses mass appeal
It brings the face of god within their view
Come look; you’ll see the things the masters saw
You’ll see the way the masters left their mark
The way it shines, you’ll soon be filled with awe
Motifs of light can guide us through the dark
The Hermitage has priceless light inside
Where art has let divinity abide.