a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets”: №127
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 21 lines and an unorthodox rhyme-scheme is like a quartet with 7 members, though reproof is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.
HOW TIME lacks mercy and of foot is fleet
the jewels from its treasury so brief
before their absence steals in like a thief
tomorrow robs the honey of its sweet
and every joy you ever come to meet
forever will be parted from its sheaf
and born away on wind like fallen leaf
and leave your own life vacant, incomplete
each lofty promise seems some fine deceit
composed in hope and stamped with seal of grief
and makes a mockery of your belief
that some other thing could sit in judgment’s seat
yet time by time will e’er be overturned
and thereby any verdict that it gave
and love is born anew each time it’s spurned
mightier than death and stronger than the grave
so all that’s lost will one day be returned
your soul restored each time that you forgave
and washed by healing waters when it’s burned
we don’t deserve that love our souls should save
for drops that fall from Heaven can’t be earned
This makes me wonder. What would I have changed ? From my inner darkness, I was given Grace and Mercy in this form, aerial boundries ~ to be reborn .
Let’s not apologize for beautiful poetry. You’re a poet and you know it!