a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets”: №110
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.
THE SUN shines down sacred palms
that grow in silence ‘midst the desert sand
still bearing witness to the golden land
while David’s touch upon the lyre calms
Saul’s demon, wraps our wounds in healing balms
and salves administered with gentle hand
to skin by arrows pierced, by weather tanned
but now enfolded in these holy psalms
will the ancient rivalries ever fade?
will’t ever be on battlefield we meet
disputes alone to settle with the blade?
or could some angel throned on judgement’s seat
rule by that same law by which we all are made
that leaves us open circuits to complete
by Truth and Beauty that will never fade
and by this law our final judgements mete?
