a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets”: №134
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. Also, I should acknowledge that the formal aspect of this “Petrarchan sonnet” is liberally conceived so it’s unnecessary to alert me that at “Petrarchan sonnet” with 17 lines and an unorthodox rhyme-scheme is like a quartet with 5 members, though reproof is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.
ARE WE not awaiting something to begin
in eager expectation of a dawn
that hasn’t come and so we soldier on
through peaks and valleys and through thick and thin
through matches we can meet but never win
and oftentimes it feels you’re but a pawn
in battle waged whose lines by hand are drawn
unseen to us in midnight of our sin
but don’t you feel there’s something great in store
for us when all we’ve lost will be returned?
through life till now we’ve always wanted more
but fate and fortune have our wishes spurned
banished us in night and locked the door
but powers by whose hand the world is turned
have sprung the lock of dawn that will restore
the leaves of love that trial by fire had burned
the grace that’s ours but which we never earned
