An Epitaph

Deep in the earth, beneath unknowing skies,
I rest at last, far past the centuries.
The visitors have long bid their good-byes;
no maidens come to lay their laurel wreaths.

Though on a summer stroll across the hills
a courting couple oft pay their respects:
and wishing well with stolen daffodils
invite a blessing as they introspect.

"For love, for truth, for art," engraves the stone:
beyond the fateful words no history;
and all the joys and sorrows that I'd known
are silent to the traveller, wondering.

But from immortal eulogy begins
a second life, reborn to brilliance.

Sonnet CCCLXV

I am - too happy on this modest day.
The oxygen owns no unearthly charm;
but as the sun embalms the lucid way,
my wonder greets the breeze upon my arm.

Bouquets of unrequited smiles prance;
their pirouettes spin aimless on the grass.
Eternities resound their empty dance
as pliant leaves sift through the hourglass.

I cannot forecast all the grievances
that each covert Tomorrow seems to know.
I cannot cause the Heavens to descend
or pause Fortuna's wheel forever, though:

As I recall the morsels of this hour,
no mournful day shall ever wield its power.

Sonnet CCCLXIII

Unwary laughter stirs the languid air:
The weary robins interlace their yawns
Unbidden breezes charm our tickled arms,
meandering toward the heaven's stair.

The shadows of the trees are barely there;
the limpid flowers rest their lurid shawls -
In viscous resignation, stilled and calm,
Warm oxygen absorbs our every care.

As Artemis is dying all the clouds,
Apollo closes up his pearly gate.
The final sun-kissed photons scintillate
as conversation takes its final bow:
these summer hours sedately dissipate,
and Mother Nature packs away her day.

Sonnet CCCLXII

A picnic we could have on ruby Mars,
upon a single orb of crimsonness –
surrounded by the solvent swaddling us,
delighted by the swarms of smiling stars?


If universes sang in students’ jars –
perhaps, perhaps! If dreams and fables lived
in every Erlenmeyer flask and dish,
how many poets would be turned to Bards?


Some silver snow bewitches ether skies
in Lotus Lands designed for gleaming eyes!
A foreign galaxy must beckon tales,
beyond the formulae and recipes –
it must transcend the ordinary Jail!


But is it only hapless chemistry?

Sonnet CCCLIX

Disintegrating into rippling shards:
the crystal earth, at once, is liquefied.
A subtle smile of sunshine at my side,
an unexpected twinkling from afar –
and thus, my heart, as well, is eased apart.


And all the tantrums and those icy eyes
seem silly…all these heartless thoughts, a lie?
Dissolved, at once, beneath the burning stars.


Some unknown bliss, some unrequited plant
shoots, surging, unpredicted, from the core –
and could I wish it stay here evermore?


The scent of joy unfolds beyond its hand –
and would these seconds last for centuries,
such simple days could paint eternities.

Sonnet CCCLVIII

A pair of crows stood, foolish, chatting!
Resplendent in the winter sun.
Was gossip ever idler, waiting?
Impending doom a distant drum!


And now my car comes crashing, wildly!
The earthworms tremble under, blindly…
The semi-frozen earth grows pale!
Vibrations thunder in the air!


But – ah! They flee too quickly – ninjas!
Oh, stealthy as the flashing winds…
Their flight igniting oxygen,
their wings opposing sluggish minutes!


But what a tale to tell at lunch!
"We only nearly dodged that one!"

Sonnet CCCLVII

The autumn’s infantry – how mighty!
Virile the plumes of gold arise –
exulted by each twig and berry.
The jealous, torpid summer dies!
No greater adversary vanquished,
no stronger rival fought and finished!


But how could pale and waxy sands,
and softest sunlights, light and wan –
compare! Our wispy, pallid present –
with haughty triumph? How we’ve aged,
ah, sea of frozen crystal days…
preserved, canopic fossil – aimless –


though in those sure and martial times
we stood incomparable, sublime!

Sonnet CCCLVI

At last I breathe again, at last I live:
perhaps my loneliness was only relative.
I once desired love – your company –
but I shall fill these hours easily.
From time-worn, weathered eyes erasing you,
replacing such projected joys with truth,
I live once more in grounded, present time
unbound of empty fantasy and rhyme.


I roam the changing earth, but pondering
as drifting, migrant snow joins, flight by flight –
and neither wind nor I know anything
of where we go from here and when or why –


but all we know is that we still exist,
if still unseen – at least by loyal sunshine kissed.

Sonnet CCCLV

What strange machines! I stand in dumbstruck awe.
They dig so monstrously, with scrawny claws;
petite – but mighty, steely, debonair.
Grey, prickly feathers splice the pungent air
and scores of them bob stably in the sea,
a half-assembled army, oddly free.


In syncopated rhythms, side by side,
now trading spots for newer soil to try,
then scurrying, returning now, for more –
acknowledging a neighbour’s small domain
then stealing it – and there erupts a war!


Unmoved, the others plod along their way,
but hesitant, I stay awhile myself,
escaping my routine for theirs, for them.

Sonnet CCCLIV

My geese – my ever-faithful geese – have left!
I watched the emptied autumn sky, bereft,
and watched them steal away to tropic lands…
oh how’ll they’ll love those toasty, sun-baked sands!


I cursed their infidelity that day
and bent upon my lonesome, grumpy way –
I’d find some other loyal friend to love!


But everyday I’d check the skies above
and find them vacant as my mournful heart.


Then suddenly – in shy, reluctant March
they squawked once more upon the melting moors!


And I – my injured self! – ignored their lure
(with great contempt) – and sauntered, haughty, off –
remarking how we’ve changed – and how they’ve not!

Sonnet CCCLIII

Epiphany? My love is shorn to shreds!
A guileless love beguiled by devious ends…
Dark, bitter grief ignites my inner core –
I cannot love this monster anymore!


And yet – I tremble at each docile smile!
I loved the clever traitor all the while.
I now regret that fatal day, when first –
a charming word deceived my artless thirst.


And yes, I still feel dearly for the fiend;
a foolish heart does not know want from need.


Ignore the ingrate! Flee the treachery!
But how we still dream fondly, stubbornly;
demanding vengeance for our suffering,
yet far too weak to do the injuring.

Sonnet CCCLII

But how those crystal eyes stared back at me!
Grand ecstasies sparked through my soul and mind;
disarming and distracting harmonies
obscured my scrutiny and made me blind.


I waited, waited - how I darkly pined!
Some desperate, thrilling, growing hopefulness
turned ravenous at every sound and sight –
then soon fell, plummeting to hopelessness.


And I remember - stubbornly - with bliss -
at how each word and stolen brush and glance
drew joyously, exultant like a kiss,
upon my steely thoughts…as if to dance.


But not today – there still remains a space -
where cruel, blue plastic mocks your worthy place.

Sonnet CCCXLIX

The world, disfigured through the window pane,
appears to me a foreign, foreign beast.
I almost couldn’t say it was the same;
it once knew sharp and clear geometry.


Instead, some other logic speaks to me,
where lines melt wholly into endless flight
and light splits, starlit, into ecstasy;
untimely rains play freely with the eyes
and transient images dance swiftly by.


Emerging from the depths of rainy mess
she enters into view one final time,
delineated clearly from the rest.


But soon, she joins the liquid world out there,
obscured, forgotten – blurred beyond repair.

Sonnet CCCXLVIII

The trembling leaves fly quicker as I pass -
If I could snatch one for myself, I would!
But could that transient oak leaf ever last?


If I could slice a piece of sun, I would!
One sliver, glowing like a seraph could,
As ardent as a lover’s keen farewell!


If I could steal the blazing sky, I would!
I’d need the ocean’s blue, expensive well,
But where the clouds should go, I cannot tell!


Alas, the summer cannot flee the fate
six ancient pomegranate seeds have dealt:
her stay is brief, but dazzles everyday
before her burnished sun-crown, songbird calls;
her grass perfumes – her sunsets – yield to fall!

Sonnet CCCXLVII

A squirrel, dark as night but bright as day,
sits waiting on the sidewalk patiently.
He starts upon the short but daunting way -
the cars do not relent, but nor does he...
he races by before they even see!


The grass awaits - and soon enough, it's his.
He searches all he wants for nut and seed
and nibbles on the spot, the scamp he is!
No passer-by could steal away his bliss -
warm sun paints spots upon the vagabond
and leaves descend upon him for a kiss!
I fear I'll scare him, but I carry on -
he knows no fear! He looks me in the eye -
and boldly, boldly dares me pass him by!

Sonnet CCCXLVI

The leaves, already gilt untimely gold,
declare that cherished summer fleets too soon!


The winds, already prematurely cold;
the sun, already mild at half past noon -
Ah, summer seemed as young as sprightly June!
Too quick the torrid dream flits sadly by!


Too quick I fear the changes steal my youth,
as if my sylvan tresses too, ignite
and litter moor and dale and precipice –
as if they had no other life to lead!


As if a heart were steadfast like the skies
and thoughts were constant as the worthy trees;
as if a futile wish for summer lives –
as if autumnal minds could answer it!

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 CCCXLIII

And afternoon glints faintly on the leaves,
As if that gold were all too rich to lend.
The seagulls cackle, joyous, from the eaves –
some avian joke I cannot comprehend.


One eyes me beadily – did I offend?


I nibble on a snack I saved from noon
and watch his greed evolve to merriment.
He squawks and screams, the mad bird like a loon,
expecting some reward for such a tune.
I turn away, but crumbs fall to the ground.
I watch, dismayed, to see him claim the boon.


Devouring quickly, flapping all around,
I watch him with amusement as he eats –
As if the thief deserved such stolen treats!

Sonnet CCCXLII

The moths flit through the sea, ephemeral;

each emerald wave progresses quicker past.

The sky is blushing like a love-struck girl

and dreams, her troubled forehead overcast.

The youth of day, her liveliness fade fast;

great mountains frame the twilight of her face.

Her blazing iris tumbles shut at last:

the birds come flying for one last embrace,

imparting to that cheek an everlasting grace.

When laid to rest, surrounded by the earth,

unseeing eyes shall still observe this place.

The clouds forever sail this planet’s girth -

No death could steal them from my feeble grasp;

and evermore the grass shall faintly rasp!

Sonnet CCCXLI

He slithers through the mute suburban maze,

A serpent buried in the silent night.

No mortal could escape that fiery gaze,

The vacant eyes aglow with ghostly light!

Some say they’ve seen the phantom taking flight,

His eerie glow an iridescent blue.

He mutely treads the roads til out of sight

and rests in wait until recalled anew.

When new day dawns he enters town to brood,

emerging, innocent as anything.

Then opening that gaping mouth for food,

the door snaps shut, his appetite appeased.

His eyes, those giant windows, gleam like stars

and noisily, the beast squeaks past the cars.