Sonnet CCXCVI

There’s daily proof the sun adores the glowing moon:
he clears the stars come morning, spreading out his arms,
and dusts the sky until he sweeps away the dark.
What sweet devotion, lasting past the heated noon!

But like a housewife, cooking, setting out the spoons –
his work’s in vain, and ruined by a single star.
Her children ruin beds, then tear the house apart;
his lover smears the spotless sky with starry shoes.

And yet, it’s loving effort keeping “house at hame”,
and sheer compassion keeping wicked anger tame.

So, still he waits, his ardour flaming like his light.
He waits eternally until the ceiling cools;
his hot anticipation’s mighty as a fool’s –
and steadily he loves, that husband of the night!

Sonnet CCXXXIII

“DIVORCE” was not a word that Adam heard before.
He first encountered it when he was five or six.
Remembering his mommy’s voice in little hicks,
she told him Daddy wasn’t coming anymore.
He left for good: he packed his bags and shut the door.
Although they had divorced, she didn’t feel a fix
for sadness in her heart. And Adam was a mix –
confused and sad. But never did he ask for more.

At Christmas, Adam asked his mommy, puzzled, sad,
why Santa Claus had stopped to come – or was he mad?

And Mommy gently said that Santa loves him still,
but doesn’t have a lot of time or money now.
And Mommy gently kissed him on his little brow
and promised him she loves him. And she always will.

Sonnet CCXXXII

The metal bench felt rigid to his sore behind,
the Christmas music, tinny, to his aching ears.
And so the shopping passed like this throughout the years:
a frantic, fruitless search, with nothing good to find.
This winter had been brutal to his weighty mind:
his wife was turning forty after all her fears;
but gifts were never bought, becoming all his fears.
He waited now, a deer in headlights dying, blind.

More fearful now, he knew he couldn’t buy some trash,
although it grew more tempting as he turned more brash.

But then, remembering how late he stayed at work,
how home improvements stole their time to love and live,
he knew at last the greatest gift that he could give
was time together, shared, a time he couldn’t shirk.

Sonnet CLIII

Of Aragon, fat Catherine was replaced
by Anne Boleyn, who lost her head one day
to Seymour Jane who, by her son, was saved
but killed, succeeded then by Anne the Mare
(of Cleves), supplanted next by Kathryn, laid
by all; last, Parr survived – because she prayed!

And so six wives King Henry thusly had.
He scared his children, never to have kids.
No wonder poor Elizabeth was glad
to stay a Virgin Queen, although amidst
a swarm of suitors – rich, ambitious lads.
But then again, King Henry’s eldest kid -
that Bloody Mary married Phillip, eh?
But then, hence stressed, she burnt those heretics...