Sonnet CX

When skies were black and dismal grey,
you raised me up and gave me happiness.
When all around my friends kept far at bay,
you won respect, then joyfulness for me.
When life was hectic – one dark, giant race,
you sorted out my troubles and my mess.
When pride began to show its haughty face,
you chided me and curbed my zealousness.

And better yet, you’re always there for me
and never need a favour or a fee.
Unwavering is your great loyalty,
transcending busyness or hapless deeds.
And always, you’re my trusted diary,
exposed for all – my dearest Poetry.

Sonnet C

While you were watching mindless T.V. shows
and playing games on dour computers too…
I babysat my brother, and I grew.
I turned sixteen, became a working prole,
Wrote three exams, each lasting three long hours,
(The subjects: counterpoint, then harmony;
the one I self-prepared was history.
They stole July and all my mental pow’r.)
I travelled to Toronto, saw a zoo,
I wrote a hundred sonnets (finally),
began analysis, new harmony,
and watched Olympic Games the whole while through.

And though achievement fills a holey life,
some say the Holy earn a better prize.

Sonnet LXXXIX

I saw a girl this morning, crying tears.
Her eyes were fire, bitter in her head,
of anger, pain, and sorrow’s burning fear,
by dismal happenchance and fate misled.

You’ve seen this girl. But what about her tears?
This girl could be a mother, working shifts
to feed three mouths, abandoned for a year.

Perhaps the woman shunned despite her gifts?

Perhaps cashiers who dreamt of more?
Perhaps the servant of her boyfriend’s whims?
The ever-giving wife, by all ignored?
The gal paid less because her name is Kim?

You think it’s easy for a sobbing girl
to live her life as scapegoat of the world?

Sonnet LXXXVI

Apologies to forks I have undone
I meant no harm to compliment the spoon.
A fork, as well, feeds all and everyone,
just with a different aim and manner too.

Ambition, marked by sharpness, greatness makes.
None matches grand achievement like a fork.
What else can jab a meatloaf or a cake
with such precision, grabbing up that pork?

And also, bold enough to learn more trades.
On icing, prongs make many little trails.
In gardens, other forks can dig all day.
And forks in roads make many sob and wail.

I’m sure that lofty goals may warrant blame.
But better to be eminent than tame.

Sonnet LVIII

Ah Fame, you were my King of long ago.
What are you now, I ask you, what are you?
You are a wretched beggar, on my streets,
Abandoned from my Kingdom, foul fool.

Ah Fame, you Tyrant, now I see your truth:

A bitter Trickster, digging cavities
for those of noble talent to fall through
and never see the light of modesty

You never crowned your subjects with fair crowns
(you never will, you idiotic prince)
you’ll always use your wiles to cheat our share

Of lowliness and honour, not a pinch!

It seems, when you had ruled my dim domain
you conned me for your own disastrous gain.

Sonnet II

Ambition fails me here and now once more.
This twisted passion falsely guides me through.
The labyrinth of the heart is black with war,
With strange desires, evil tendencies.

My heart grows sick with jealousy.
All joyous, you who love the gracious calm.
Within the bliss, disaster’s revelry.
Unrest dawns here, though happiness prevails.

Insane I am, it’s true and very so,
For envy here I hold for reason not.
Disastrous ways shall cause much strife and woe,
The first of which pervades my very life.

The spite still grows within my hated soul;
To live the day unharmed, that is my goal.