Christine’s Sonnets: 76 – ?

LXXVI

Though it may seem I see the Donut’s hole

More often than I taste its sug’ry glaze,

Be rest assured those holes all play a role

Within the dough that shapes its tasty maze;

For to explore profoundest of extremes,

I must endure the height of Love’s delights,

And at the drop of fickle-mooded Dreams

Full-plume the depths of grief bestricken wights;

To frame the Joyous ecstasies of Woe

I must become the versatilest brush,

Lamenting fears and loves with heedless show,

As if my Life were Doomed within their rush:

Were I the Pessimist that some would brand,

I would have died ere this, by mine own hand.

 *     *     *     *     *

LXXVII

My Heart is in the Harem of my breast

Along with those who glance their eyes aside,

And so bestow the glories of my Chest

Upon their cede whilst casting far and wide;

It thrums its warmth within my soft-spun veins,

Holding its heat within its Precious hum,

And so I find the giddy gaude of gains

Within its beat and tempo’d torrid drum;

My Heart is here and here my Heart may stay

As long as it desires to call me home,

And though it choose to dance in others’ sway,

I will enshrine each lease it deigns entome;

O hark my Heart; in Here thy Love may see

The Precious gem and better part of me.

 *     *     *     *     *

LXXVIII

Why should my worth be measured by a lump

Of metal alloy stamped to shape a coin

For niggard hoards, who frame all others ‘Chump’

For Prizing Heart above prime Tenderloin?

Why should my say be said by gilded tongues

To value less for being formed in dross

Than those who press their lips against the rungs

Of Status Quo, smearing its Scarlet gloss?

Why should my Voice be dressed in standard garb

And speak a lie to gain a single step

When those who breathe perfume can shoot a barb

And leap a mile, solely on silver’d rep?

Why should I roll the dice of Fortune’s Plea

When Others pay to load them against me?

 *     *     *     *     *

LXXIX

I’ve never wondered why I do these things,

Walking for miles to see a single view,

And yet I find the need to test my wings

Has no regard for sights of different hue;

A Specificity of gen’ral like

Causes my Heart to pinpoint thru a fog

The briefest glimpse of Saltutory Pike,

And off I go, traipsing the mired’st bog;

Weep not the pains that then beset my feet,

Nor moan the greed that empties thus my purse,

For at the end, the just desserts I meet

Outweigh the drains my weakness tempts to curse;

When I entrust my Course to my Heart’s reins,

I find my needs fulfilled in Concise veins.

 *     *     *     *     *

LXXX

Slip-soft my step upon the sandy shore

Raising a gale to linger in my wake,

A storm of Sear and tempo-mounted moor

Crashing in waves upon a shattered lake;

Soft-slip my step in trance along a Line

Weaving a Dream to shape the Hearts of Men

Into a foil and Wisdom-seeking shrine,

Embalming truth within our mansions’ ken;

Soft-slip my Heart into the dance of Time

Ensuring all the tethers of my Soul

Can be cut loose in well belovéd Rhyme

And distant eyes that learn my Spirit whole;

Soft-slip my step into the Ocean’s Sway

That I may Rise and learn this Siren’s lay.

 *     *     *     *     *

LXXXI

I am privileged.  This I understand.

I went to schools above the average leaf.

I had a dog, and cats, and acred land.

I swam in lake, and sea, and coral reef.

I eat good food and work a paying job

Where I learn skills, which I can then ingrain,

And I have Time to fling myself Abroad,

Whether o’er land or Sea by aeroplane.

And yet I chafe to live a different way,

Unchecked by pay, toiling for mine own ends,

Not gazing Wist across a world-wide bay,

But close at hand, with Dear, like-minded friends.

I know my life is not downtrodden grim,

But my content can’t be vacation’d whim.

*     *     *     *     *

LXXXII

There is construction going on next door,

An awful din that makes it hard to think,

Much less record; I hate to seem a boor,

But this “vacation’s” on the bloomin’ blink;

Between the noise of buzzsaws on my right

And obsessed landscape pruning on my left

And motorboats growling before my sight

And aeroplanes booming to heave their heft,

I’m quite perturbed, if not outright dismayed

At all the noise pollution going on

Where once the Rule of Silence over-weighed

All my attempts to laugh upon the lawn;

Don’t get me started on Cicada charms:

The vildest Sand Merks couldn’t hail more harms.

 *     *     *     *     *

LXXXIII

There is a thunder growing in my Heart,

An urge to leap despite a shackled Core,

The need to rip asunder every part

Of daily life, wherein I’d once set store:

The tedium of toiling thru a day

To earn a modicum of private rest

Wherein I must encase the precious pay

Of my Soul’s Joy and pleasure giving best

Has ever been a frame that I despise,

Chafing at Mind and consternating wit,

Yet knowing not what made my Spirit rise,

I had no way to yoke my champing bit;

But seeing now the light that makes me Soar,

I have no Will to Patience anymore!

 *     *     *     *     *

 *     *     *     *     *

XCV

Thine eye, Sweet Friend, is bright to catch my gaze,

And I would cast my Sight unto the Sea

To feel its Light, and share the Warmth of Days

Within its grasp, content to shelter’d be;

But that the pull of Present-minded tasks

Embroils my wit and drags upon mine arms,

And though I turn, straining beneath their masks

To show my Heart, I fear I lack thy charms;

The Firefly flash of burning, Brilliant glow

That holds mine eye despite Distraction’s toil,

Is like a blaze, dwarfing my meager bow

And the slight Sparks it shoots to prove me loyal;

I’d inundate the sky with letter’d wings

To meet thy Heart, had I the Time of Kings.