Sonnet CCCLXIV

Alone, amongst the waves, beneath the sun -
I fear I'll drown; I've waded out too far.
The seabirds cackle in a frenzied bunch,
detecting noontime spoils from afar.
So far from land, so far from everyone,
I cannot say why I feel merrier:
my cheeks exude a strange vermillion,
my eyes ablaze with some unearthly star.

Perhaps I do not need an audience:
if I should whisper some aquatic rhyme,
the simple joy of it is bountiful -
if one should pause to note its loveliness,
then it is Art; if one should call it crime,
then I am mad as any starving gull.

Sonnet CCXXXV

If Nature is the Model, what is Purpose then?
To Mirror it as children do, much like the sea?
To Worship it, exalting all the lofty trees?
To Dwell in it, and spread its surface with our men?

If Nature is the Model, find it here again:
Suspended in a faucet, rivers run for me.
Suspended in a window, lights are suns let free.
Suspended in a box, the air is trapped within.

So shall the Purpose be to copy all its grace?
Or mutiny, rebelling from its youthful face?

Perhaps the Purpose shall be both, or else we lie.
Reflection finds its way into our lives with ease,
but variation finds its way to be appeased,
and so we run around, spin mad, or else comply.

Sonnet XCV

There was a path upon a grassy hill.
Behind the hill the sunset lay, beyond.
While climbing up the path, kind crickets trilled,
but of the prickly plants I wasn’t fond.

The top was lovely, what a sight to see!
A sultry sun, completing daily rounds,
the trucks and lights of nearby factories,
and cigarette packs scattered on the ground.

The urban sprawl spreads far as one can think.
Construction rested for the night but still
the mounds of dirt lay all about in rings…
and water bottles litter all the hill.

I thought about the lists and plans I made…
then in the human starkness, nature fades.

Sonnet LII

The rain will fall from Heaven in the spring
and dampen earth below and spirits too.
There seems to be descending gloom in spring
when droplets fall and rain makes earthly trips.

But ah, dear rain, you tap so rhythmically.
You comfort me at night and join my grief,
You join my madness, dripping constantly.
You nourish plants, quench nature’s dying thirst.

Ah, rain, you blessed gift that dulls my gloom.
No wonder we, for centuries, have prayed
for your return, that even makes blooms bloom.
My misaligned companion, cry your tears.

But may there be glad tears that fall in spring,
as birds, despite the rain, still sadly sing.

Sonnet LI

A veil has lifted; now I see the world.
How nice it is to be but finally free!
My dreary time as prisoner is past;
I look to future plans with joyous glee.

Ah! Prisoner I was to my own thoughts!
How dreadful to be swallowed in my mind.
Thank goodness I was rescued or I’d be
Completely lost - to craziness I’d wind.

Oh happy days, oh joyous life to live!
Where have you been when in my grief I cried?
Where were you when I scorned harsh happiness?
Where were you when my soul bled and bliss died?

Propinquity to death has made me glad
To be alive, these joyous days to have!

Sonnet XVIII

The afternoon is done, a bus I take.
The ride is dull, the same routine each day.
I take a book, and read the whole long way,
But time goes slowly past, unhurried still.

The bus has stopped, to drop some children off.
I see a car outside, and look within.
A baby, tucked inside, gives little grins,
Alone and quiet, small and vulnerable.

I wonder where the baby’s parents are.
Surrounded only by apartments there,
The child is lone, and still I mutely stare.
I wonder how this child will grow up.

This present world is cruel and cold and stark.
It’s truly sad how we must learn the truth.

Sonnet VI

I’m sorry for what I have left undone.
I’m sorry for the things I should have done.
And things I should have said to you before,
The things you asked, the things I undertook.

Despair is far worse than I can withstand,
And so I take it to the grave and die.
My selfishness is more than you can stand,
So death, of course, gives you release as well.

I drown in waters of my grief and pain,
The river of my painful misery.
My lake of everlasting, saddened rain,
The ocean of my bleak, eternal tears.

I leave this with you now, all this to read.
Make sense of it and wisdom, seize and heed.

Sonnet V

To die a thousand times, a painful death,
To end the lives of misery's foul breath;
Of drugs and failure, crossed paths and strange ways
To strangle, sicken, drown, and pass away.

My life is far from hell, I know it’s true,
But help me die and resurrect the grave
Of sick desires, ambitions that enslave,
The things I wanted, but were took from me.

Of course, my mind is far from typical,
With evil thoughts and plans it is quite full.
I surely shall destroy the world around;
If I’m not stopped I’ll surely slay myself.

The lies with which the world has drugged me with
Are drowning me with poison, strong and swift.

Sonnet III

Grey clouds prevail the sky this dismal day,
As grim as days before and days to come.
The future seems as dark as heavens here,
So dark the firmament begins to tear.

What cruel and evil fate is this endured?
What tortured kind of mockery is this?
This life offends me so - it is not fair!
Within my soul the fabric starts to tear.

The dullness mounts, and threatens wickedly,
Yet somehow, strains prevail and reign as well.
Day’s hours are not long enough for me,
Yet surely I wish days would cease to be.

Perhaps my mind is truly much deranged,
And thus I wish instead to here be hanged.