Sonnettics

I miss the raw salaciousness she’d share
I loved her sensuality, divine
If we were still together, I’d be there
If I could change my past she’d still be mine
The future dissipated when I fell
and broke my body; broke my mind, my brain
If Beautiful would listen, I would tell
her my regret and how I went insane
To leave her love and beauty, I was mad
I feel it now as much as I did then
But I remember all the joy we had
I wish that we could live that joy again
My second life deserves a second try
to give her all my love before I die.

At Chittenango Falls I liked the way
we kissed. I wasn’t sure how far to go.
I wanted to make love to you that day
but wasn’t sure if I should take it slow.
You spread a blanket underneath a tree
and wrapped yourself around me in the shade
your body, warm and comfortable to me
I felt your love although it wasn’t made
At Chittenango Falls the air was cool
from water as it splashed upon its way
The stream descended down into a pool
We’d found the perfect place to kiss and lay
I think of Chittenango Falls and you
whenever I feel sad or down or blue.

What happens when we die? I think I know
I’m pretty sure I crashed and died last Spring
I’ll tell my death-belief to you, although
Belief in something may not mean a thing
I rode my bike as fast as I could spin
Then I collided sideways with a car
I struck my head and shook the brain within
Most places that I damaged bear a scar
My memories of crashing are obscured
by memories of angels on a mount
My memories are poignant, not absurd
The angels said my time with them would count
So death is just a meeting and a task
And Heaven, Hell? Don’t know; I didn’t ask.

I watched the diamonds sparkle in the light
while waiting for the beauty, blonde and tall
The gold reflected everything in sight
when beauty came; I’d wait for her to call
my name. Her voice was comforting to me
And now I need her comfort, want her more
I want to hear, to touch her, and to see
her beauty like I’ve never seen before
No simile of jewelry can compare
with how I love her beauty, she can shine
more radiant than poetry. I’ll dare
complete her sonnet, hope that she’ll be mine
Dear Monica, my memories of you
are beautiful. I know that they are true.

My tears are short, they don’t slide off my face
I cry them from a stifled, sullen place
I cry them for the losses that I feel
My tears are short, but you can see they’re real
My body shakes with sadness like it’s hot
I like to think I’m whole, but I am not
I’m only whole when love is in my arms
She wants my tears; she wants my subtle charms
I pull my paper quickly from my book
It’s blank. I turn it over, turn to look
at life below the teardrops, short and round
there’s nothing really blank, I think I’ve found
a poem that reveals what I surmise
of tears I cry; it matters what the size.

They call me single now: I have no wife
I have a ringless finger, and my heart
feels empty, but I want to share my life
with you, because my poetry is part
of who I am. I want you for my muse
Come hide your beauty well within my verse
Between your beauty and yourself, I’d choose
your self. Your skin’s a play. Let’s go rehearse
If I could make a lyric with your name
I’d write a sonnet, volta would be bliss
to turn from words to song and sound the same
I’d turn my face to yours and take a kiss
Come kiss this single man and I am yours
True love may end, but poetry endures,

I laughed about my injury today
I tried to think what “normal” was and failed
I wondered what the “normal” folk would say
if asked what they thought “normalcy” entailed
I hate to think that “normal” is my goal
I’d rather strive for Beauty, there I find
the friends who’ve been attracted to my soul
who’s love can calm and bring me peace of mind
I wonder what I used to be and why
I don’t fit in with “normal” anymore
I know that thought’s important so I try
to check my laughter at the “normal” door.
I know my thoughts and injury are real
But I will save some thoughts for when I heal.

Beside her skin I’m warm; her skin is soft
She calms me like a poet calms his verse
I’ve curled beside my lover like this, oft
Though now I sleep alone; alone is worse
Each breath I take, I take to taste her skin
I breathe because she gives me life to live
I want to live with her and live within
her beauty. If I sin, she will forgive
And yet, I only want to do what’s right
I want to curl up naked by her form
Her form is heaven-sent, it’s smoothe and white
Because she sleeps with me, her skin is warm
To touch her is the truth that comes from dreams
To love her is beyond the warmth it seems.

Her patience is a star, her love, the moon
She pulls upon my seas; I see her light
Her beauty in my life is none too soon
In darkest skies my Mari shines so bright
There was a time my ship wrecked in a storm
I drifted to an island, where I lay
The wind was cold, my dreams of Mari, warm
as she became the sun to light my day
I’ve traced her constellation with my hand
Her orbits of me make a perfect sphere
If in a rocket ship, I’d want to land
My Mari is too far; I want her near
I’ll follow her, regardless of the cost
Celestial Mari guides me when I’m lost.

We didn’t plan to stop, but stops will come
We kept our bikes in tune; our wheels would hum
But Lake Oneida’s air was cold as hell!
I’m glad I rode with Mari. Why? I’ll tell.
She has more common sense than me, I’m sure
She knew we needed warmth and where we were!
She found MacDonald’s, stopped, and went inside
I sat with her; we nursed our wounded pride
She made me drink hot chocolate, no demand
But gratefully I drank, then held her hand
Our fingers warmed enough to shift or brake
I’m glad that Mari knew what we could take
I’m also glad she likes hot chocolate, too
“Dear Mari, I’d ride anywhere with you.”