Sonnettics

Forgotten verse is like forbidden flame
I can’t remember poetry, her name
Is beautiful, but on my broken brain
I feel her song and feel I am disdain
I know they say I shouldn’t beat myself
But feeling doesn’t sit upon my shelf
And she can sing my disdain anytime
My poetry is full of trashy rhyme
But I would write her actions like the beat
of heart to heart or love that’s incomplete
One line may be the source of what we feel
I find the line and will before her kneel
reciting words that mimic beauty’s form
but wanting only taste of her that’s warm.

Expressions come without the sound of voice
Her eyes, her cheeks they move without a choice
She doesn’t choose to let me know she feels
attraction, so I think, like magnet steels
Her metal is creative, I would weld
Her shape with all my art and watch her meld
Her beauty needs no craft of mine to show
Perfection in the shape I want to know
I’d let her stay in her true lovely form
To love the perfect beauty of the norm.
I miss her voice, the sound of rolling pearls,
She sounds like all my memory of girls.
I love her noise or silence; I’m in love
with her, my lover, sweet, I’m thinking of.

My death was widely felt within my brain
and yet my brain was cognizant of death
My body felt my death as ugly pain
and yet my body felt with every breath.
Perhaps my death was not my final end.
I thought about the concepts of my life
I thought a lot about my loving friend
and how I loved and wished she was my wife.
and yet my wife was still my wife, I knew
that only one could stay within my life
I only want my loving friend; they slew
my “errant ” thoughts and gave to me my wife.
And yet I made a project of my soul
for what I truly needed to be whole.

How far is far away? How much is far?
Does love deny the distance? Does it mar
such beauty as the beauty I have seen?
Too far is nothing unsurpassed between
my visioned beauty lingering away
in gardens I have been to in the day
when she and I walked brightly, hand in hand
like acquiescence lived by our command
like water moves when heat is flowed within
our love and beauty linger skin to skin
the way your hand and mine refuse to part
or how your mouth reflects a loving start:
a kiss or something whispered to my soul
and signifies the distance as a goal.

Unfold the page of memories of two
who love afar and cry like me and you
It’s us; the simile is written thin
the metaphor of love does not begin
to tell of how we love in burning rooms
or how we rescue love from dusty tombs
I drive my silver jeep and hold her hand
my memory may fail, but I’ll demand
the recollection of the fabric seats
to tell of how we moved without retreats
To touch our skin, our warmth, our lips, and all
the skin within brain crevasses can’t fall
from logic and intelligence; I’ll quit
from thinking if constrained or scarred by it.

Her dolls have all been put away, and now
she says her prayers, Hail Mary, full of grace.
My heart remembers pieces of a vow
she whispered in another time and place,
like pieces of a heart within a doll:
ceramic, shattered, hidden from her view,
below a painted face. The shards are small,
too small to represent the love we knew.
They cut their way through flesh, inert, like foam
and buried deep in softness cut the hand
of anyone who dares to take me home,
or anyone who cares to understand
that part of life is pain, the biggest part,
and love, the tiny shards of broken heart.

I curse my words, my poetry, my breath
and wish for silent seepage of the death
of scansion as it rises to my brain
I curse my subtle poetry in vain
for vanity is like the tune I hear
while cursing words and poetry, I fear
my brain enables angels to descend
amidst the lightning thunder, let’s pretend
that noise above is sent from father-god
and mother-god approves with just a nod
perfection is the sequence she will sing;
redemption is the love her tears will bring
as rain begins to fall from darkened clouds
and soaks the tears of worship in the crowds.

Don’t cry with tears that melt on cheeks of bone
But if you can’t withhold the sobs you own
then give them to your love to break your heart.
A soul in love will tear itself apart
without the bath of tears, the saline mock
of real imagined pain of which we talk
with cracking breath try hard to understand
that love is mostly true when it is banned
Then ban your love and cry yourself to sleep
With dreams that will consume your lovely weep
And kiss your lover’s ghost; her body shakes
it gives your mind the images it makes
you won’t make love with someone who is ill
And if your love is well, you never will.

Come kiss the kiss I’ve saved all day for you
I like to kiss the woman who is mine
If she can kiss, we’ll kiss the whole night through
Her kisses and her love are more divine
than some divinity to which men pray
And in her lips I taste our Riesling wine
I have a quiet mouth to turn her way
I love to kiss her when she’s most supine
Our love is something that I love and care
“I love you baby, you are who I kiss”
when I’m in dreams and need the love we share
We share our love more often though than this
Forever is too short a time to feel
Your kiss which let’s me know that you are real.

To be in Mari’s life it’s when I feel
the love she has for me; her love is real
I tell the world she saved my life; it’s true
And I would love to tell her what I knew
the moment that I felt her love and skin
I felt my life begin, my life begin
And now my life is hers forever more
I’ll keep her love and mine I’ll hold in store
for Mari when she needs my love the most
I hope the most is always; I’ll be host
to anything she wants, I’ll give it all
to Mari; I’m in love; I didn’t fall
in love to be a small pathetic thing
To Mari there is much that I can bring.