a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets” (23)

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 is like a quartet with 5 members, though criticism and rebuke is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.

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WHEN you stumble out of that land of dreams
trailing images which from that world were torn
and find yourself in the grey light of morn
and your ears assailed with sounds that seem
the forays of an alien regime
and to remind you of a life forlorn
into whose deep pockets you were born
bound together by callous, soulless seams
then gazing through your broken window pane
raise your voice and let it struggle free
take to wing and soar above the chords of pain
transpose your soul into a higher key
and join the angels in their pert refrains
the hollow chambers of heart will be
a resonator for those heavenly strains
of music that will set your spirit free
to do the sacred work that love ordains

Photo by Marieke Verhoeven on Unsplash