a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets” (79)
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 is like a quartet with 5 members, though criticism and rebuke is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved..
I HEARD a voice speak to me from afar
rouse yourself, and rise up from your bed
step out into the night and place your head
beneath the curtain of the day inlaid with stars
like jewels, Moon of argent, ruby Mars
that tell of paths you mustn’t fear to tread
and tarry not, for soon you will be dead
know that I can hear the music that you are
I know what you fear to lose along the way
upon these pathways tortuous and steep
such paths that ask you more than words can say
what is this self you’re so concerned to keep,
preserve alive and float above the fray?
the wheat’s mowed down the harvest then to reap:
you only find the self you give away
and that at such a price is sold for cheap
Max, if you're creating these in real time, I'm impressed with your prolific creativity. Each one of these has genuinely brilliant turns of phrase. They are truly inspired. I wonder if you are motivated to go back and polish them, to wordsmith and revise, to polish each gem. I think your poems are worthy of that kind of attention.
...but this is an avocation, not your day job, not your greatest contribution to our culture.