a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets” (21)
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 especially liberally conceived so it’s unnecessary to alert me that at “Petrarchan sonnet” with 22 lines is like a quartet with 6 members, though criticism and rebuke is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.
WHERE were you when I was forlorn and lost
when my bed was the cold and stony ground
the crescent moon and stars upon me frowned
my only blanket was the heartless frost
where were you when I alone was tossed
by ancient gods, whose fickle wraths abound
when my enemies compassed me around
and made ready my person to accost
and pierce me with swords and arrows crossed
making ready my forsaken frame to seize
and nail me to a tree upon a hill
my agony you could that time have eased
and raised your voice their violent arms to still
and by your power their boiling hearts have freezed…
I Was There, But Wished To See Your Will
And Now In You My Son I Am Well Pleased
