Sonnet CCCXLV

Demonic monsters of the turbid sky,
guffawing with your gaping mouths like beasts -
away, away! Take wing and swiftly fly!


Regarding jealously at all who feast
and clammoring for every greasy piece -
away, away! We steadfastfully ignore!


The children, fearful, hurry to their seats,
or else combat the grey-specked, greedy hoard.
For such disturbance, there is no reward!
Mind quickly to yourselves, o scavengers...


There's scraps upon the ground - don't ask for more.
Your gluttony grows only angrier;
the laden tables are your battlegrounds -
away, away! Show mercy this time round!

Sonnet CCCXI

The frozen earth is creaking slightly
as cautious footsteps tread its face.
My eyes, like guarded shells of brandy,
are scanning quickly ‘round the place.
I’m searching for the Dog I’m scared of.
He’s nowhere to be seen – but careful!
As walking past his home, he barks –
I see his muzzle, then his snarl.
But then I’m past and he is chained there,
and is he – puzzled? Curious?
We glance covertly, silent, lest
the other think the other weaker.
He barks, I bow; he stalks away –
but maybe we shall meet another day.

Sonnet CLXXXII

The night was bright; alarum, loud as bugle’s call.
I waited for another soul to wake up first,
for fear entreated me until it almost burst.
My feeble mask of calm destroyed by noisy brawl,
my curiosity surmounted me, too tall
for crude containment. Fearing all the very worst,
the courage in my heart enticed me as it nursed;
my person, so possessed, then clambered to the hall.

The night, aflame with lamplights, hid the criminal,
while naked weakness left me unprotected, null.

Upbraiding every door, inspecting carefully,
each room held nothing but our anxious oxygen.
Now beckoned to our beds by found security,
our feet let to the stair, descending not again.

Click here for the story behind this sonnet.

Sonnet CCLXVII

A battered ship entangled in the breeze, it shakes
and creaks, belying strength one thinks it should portray.
I doubt its oblong cage, although its massive plane
proves warmer than the seas of air that now invade.

As is if some demon, churning at the sides and panes,
these winds do not relent, but carry on and bray,
forgetting all their summer cousins, filled with grace.
These winds instead encourage enmity, disdain.

Oh turbulent and wicked! Fear exalts my face,
now lifted, wishing that I had the faith to pray.

Instead, within this home my hopes remain for life.
Within, I find seclusion from the chill and cold
through artificial means. For life I beg and hold,
which storms prove frail compared to frigid winter strife.

Sonnet CCLIV

An anxious Andrew bashed his shopping cart around
and packed in cookies; slapped in juices, yellow, red;
then grabbed his wife’s requests and zipped the way ahead.
His enemy was Time, his watch so cruelly round,
while rushing to the checkout; seconds like wet hounds,
their fangs a-dripping. Pulling through to aisle ten,
to checkout nine, where those with items eight or less
were bound to head, he fast advanced! But turning round -

He saw the stupid crackers he forgot in haste.
He raced reverse – the party would be starting soon!
And now he had an item more – so nine – how cruel!
The hand struck three – upon his shaking, fumbling wrist –

Anxiety then melted to a laughing howl –
his watch was early – almost by a half an hour!

Sonnet CCXXIII

I have a lot of friends who love the opera too.
They come from France, Great Britain, Spain, and Germany.
A few are from the States and one’s from Italy.
I’ve others too, but I digress. Away we move.
Kind Beth of Texas is a mother and a muse,
and Phoenix is a nearby piano friend like me,
but she’s thirteen, won Nationals, and loves to teach.
I could go on: musicians, writers, artists too…

The world’s afloat with wondrous people, smart and kind.
The ones I’ve met so far are just like that, I find.

And yet, there are so many stalkers on the Net;
they terrorize and bully, like a bunch of fools.
However, all these contacts, friends, and such I’ve met
I found through websites, blogs, and other cyber-tools.

Sonnet CCXX

Before my presentation on Madame Dessay,
I went inside the French room, testing out my show
of slides. I ate my lunch and quickly had to go.
The other ones were quite well done, I have to say.

Approaching me, I started fervently to pray,
for it was near my very lucky turn to go.
And then, so randomly, my teacher went to crow,
“Oh Mike, your «jaune banane» is here for you to take!”

The class looked back at me, expecting my account.
Embarrassed, thus I told the class to turn around.

Retrieving it from up in front, I ate the fruit.
And then, short after that, my eyes were very round.
Presenting very fast (for class was ending now),
the bell then rang so loud. Cut off, I yelled, «Oh, zut!»

Sonnet CXCIII

Machinery and scissors, large and great.
had chipped away and shined and flew about
my teeth, obedient like frightened clouds,
directed to those instruments with hate,
a-brooding gloomily below their weight.
And yellow sparks of bonding glue had found
their nasty way, with water, to my round,
astonished eyes, insulted by the spray.

But it was done, at last. I rinsed my mouth.
Yet put back to the chair once more and shocked,
they put a pinkish mixture in my mouth
to take impressions, gagging me with love.
When done, they let me rinse my battered mouth
once more. And thus the braces were removed.

Sonnet CLXXVII

It’s been ten years since last I swam that pool.
The last I came, I ate my fill at lunch
but then I barfed my fill as low I hunched.
And sometimes scabs would fall into that pool
and mingle with chlorine that stung so cruel
as water trashed me with its heavy punch.
And still I recollect the belly crunch
of those I laughed at, known as diving fools.

So now the pool looks small and favourable,
perhaps because I’ve seen much larger pools and depths,
but still the murals line the walls like friends.
And though my skill in swimming has since dulled,
it’s nice to see the water’s gentle breadth
although the memories have seemed to bend.

Sonnet CLVII

So much to do, so little precious time.
Is this not what the modern mantra is?
Inciting what we would have done from lists
of schedules and future worried signs.

Alas, this stress is what we have in life.
When everything’s so fast, there’s nothing missed,
but everything’s a mess and thus, amiss.
What’s time but apprehension’s law sublimed?

Alas, I bite my tongue and work away,
for in the past, archaic peoples died
with toil in their blood and heated souls,
but now my only enemy each day
is time and where to fit the parts of life
into this widening and gaping whole.

Sonnet CVIII

What is this strange and closed Society
comprised of Average Joes and plain Jane Does?
This group of those elite enough to be
the ones some call the “Normal” hominids?
Who are these foreign, strange communities,
closed up with plastic, joy-inducing lids?
Why am I so excluded from their creed?
Was it a thing I said or thought or did?

Perhaps, But really, I don’t care at all!
The Normal have conforming Greys and Blues.
And me? I have the freedom to appal…
to do whatever. I have all the hues
of individuality – but all
the rest must deal with their conformist views.

Sonnet CV

Have you sat down and simply wondered how
the paradox of human time does work?
I will be dead one day – that I will vow.
But now my life is spinning from my words…
the words before, the ones I said were “now” -
now passed. Where did they go? They’re “now” I’m sure,
but no – they are replaced with fresher “nows” –
the present’s past and past is present now.

And then I figured out what speed is for.
In modern life, it keeps me plainly glad.
Or else, I’d be confused – “what’s life or time?”
So speed, our saccharin, helps us ignore
these thoughts. It brightens streams of coffee had,
the artificial substitute we’ll try.

Sonnet LXXXIII

The mirror insults me, not for its plain face,
but for the nature of its glassy stare.
Two wholes, alike, not meant to be a pair.
Its difference of sameness a disgrace.

Shall future joy exclude me, entering here?
I will not know; I mask all well, you see.
But still, as faulty allies break their creed,
the truth remains, a taunting little leer.

Alas, I’m superstitious, mutely so.
I’d never break a mirror willingly.
So shamefully the twins stay gleefully,
observant in their grief and undertows.

As over-replication causes waste
so do the many lies, which make distaste.

Sonnet LXV

A personality – I’d like one please.
You sell them for a decent price, I hear.
Please call me when it’s done; I’ll come back here.
I’ll pay your due – the taxes, time, and fees.

I need a life. And me? Less shy, more warm.
More loveable, less esoteric too.
Sincere and wholesome, loving, friendly, true,
dependable, and matching to the norm.

If possible, remove the “shell” they see.
Cure my depression and nostalgic thoughts
and make me dutiful, like I was taught.
Create the me all love and want to be.

Your store’s a fake, now isn’t it? I see.
There’s no supply of all the traits I need.

Sonnet LXIV

I swallow mayonnaise, the sumptuous spread,
all slathered on a piece of ancient bread.
The quiet afternoon is restless still
and pricks my skin, thus urging me to quill.

But nothing comes to mind and nothing will
as blank stares greet me from the window sill.
Sad empty promises all sing above,
for things to do are things to never love.

And schedules and timetables fly by
and drift away, forlorn by desperate sighs.
I relish reading facts on calories
that say that fat is actually good for me.

And so I eat my mayonnaise and bread
while reminiscing of my future dread.

Sonnet XLII

Cold bodies, frozen in Spring’s icy rain.
Each step I take inflicts their dole and pain.
Inevitably my bulky figure tries
In vain to miss the bodies underneath.

Raw flesh, fresh killed and glowing brightly red,
Of quartered worms, too stubborn to be dead,
Their small entrails and innards spread throughout
The road on which I walk, that stark expanse.

To think, these worms once lived and crawled and breathed.
Dull lives were led while elements had seethed.
And sadly others kill them – frigid, staid.
Not knowing that they took their lives by chance.

It's so unfair that organisms are
So staggered, put on tiers of unfair par.

Sonnet XL

Some things kids need in order to have fun:
Each other – friends – and lots of space to run.
Then there’s food and candy (not too much),
Some watchful supervision and some games.

I think that children’s play relieves our stress,
So innocent and conveying happiness.
It seems they melt away the worries that we have;
Concern in life, and for their safety too.

Young children leave our cares behind
And many entertainments they will find.
Despite our chiding, nagging, worrying,
They’ll soon go on and leave our fears to us.

It seems, as siblings, parents, caregivers,
Our worries will be lost as futile thoughts.