a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets”: №111

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 16 lines and an unorthodox rhyme-scheme is like a quartet with 5 members, though reproof is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.

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WHEN IN the falling light your way you’ve lost
faint echoes fade of all the phrases spoken
of vows a thousand times you’ve broken
this offer all your feeble faith must cost:
the ferryman to carry you across
while looming clouds above the straight betoken
no hope this passage will survive unbroken
no candle unextinguished when it’s crossed
through stations of your self you don’t remember
the mystic chord that angels struck resounds
the life in you had dwindled to an ember
buried ‘midst the ashes of your being’s ground
and though the icy touch of bleak November
the Summer flowers felled and mowed them down
left their withered elements dismembered
your soul will rise from ash with fire crowned

Photo by Henry Be on Unsplash