Ordinarily I don’t publish so much poetry at Theoria-press, and instead try to provide mostly essays with an odd poem or sonnet occasionally interspersed among them. But the Muse’s visits have outstripped my ability to keep pace with prose pieces so readers who prefer essays should peruse the archives of this site, which are replete with them. This is more-or-less an actual Petrarchan sonnet so it will not be preceded by my usual exculpatory disclaimer about having departed from the paradigmatic form.
THE SOUL can never live by bread alone,
but love of bread: the bread of love between
two hearts; the golden berried wheat is seen
and reaped from amber fields where it was sown
then ground to flour upon devotion’s stone
and leavened with the dew of worlds unseen
till all its sundry elements convene
with fire that can’t be seen but only known
in form of man or child seek not for me:
I am within—in form will essence hide
and couch itself behind all we can see
the rose’s glow tells of the lamp inside
experience just what it means to be!
lo! part the veil and draw the curtains wide
Original, beautiful and touching as always.
Treasa o'Driscoll