Hmm. I'm not thrilled with line two, but will leave it for now ... until my inner editor surfaces one day (I have a feeling that it's not far off) and I'll whip through all the problems in the verses and get them closer to what I want.
I gaze at you from ocean’s chilly depths
And see you doing stretches by the shore.
I noticed that you seem to shift your steps
To push yourself to reach a wee bit more.
I gaze at you from cloudy threatening skies
And watch you as you take your daily run,
And when you lift a weight for exercise;
To train yourself for heavy lance and gun.
I gaze at you from dullest hillside stones
As you ride by upon your war-trained mount;
But you’re preparing for the foes well known
Who tilt to mark the day of Royal count.
From ashes I have told you what I see.
Pray tell me sir, what do you see in me?
2007-09-27
2007-09-26
Sonnet 14
A paradise for fools? What thing is this
That mocks the rules that I was always taught?
While foolish acts mayhap could win a kiss;
Such acts, for heaven’s reward, avail me nought.
If what I’m told of Paradise is true,
‘Tis filled with fools of a most virtuous type
And, while I hope I’m not as bad as you,
I trust I bear not that angelic stripe.
If what I’m told of foolishness is fair,
It is a pastime that’s reserved for wits
And, though I am no brain, I would not dare
To claim that I’ve not scored my share of hits.
And, thus, it is a foolish yarn I spool
Within this paradise reserved for fools.
That mocks the rules that I was always taught?
While foolish acts mayhap could win a kiss;
Such acts, for heaven’s reward, avail me nought.
If what I’m told of Paradise is true,
‘Tis filled with fools of a most virtuous type
And, while I hope I’m not as bad as you,
I trust I bear not that angelic stripe.
If what I’m told of foolishness is fair,
It is a pastime that’s reserved for wits
And, though I am no brain, I would not dare
To claim that I’ve not scored my share of hits.
And, thus, it is a foolish yarn I spool
Within this paradise reserved for fools.
2007-09-18
Sonnet 13
Enough of this modern stuff -- back to 1582 and the sequence.
You carried me away to Ludgate Hill,
For Lyly’s play, put on by Oxford’s men.
‘Twas “Sapho”, and his voice was rather shrill;
Small wonder Phao left her quickly, then.
You bought me books of verse with hard-earned coin
And claimed, each time, you thought of me throughout:
While all the sundry flowers of Gascoigne
Were eaten by the sheep of Colin Cloute.
You poured a ruby wine into my cup
And drank to friendship that we had begun;
We took our seats, relaxing as we supped.
‘Twas hours before our feast was truly done.
What can I give, that you might think was clever?
Accept my words, and you shall last forever.
You carried me away to Ludgate Hill,
For Lyly’s play, put on by Oxford’s men.
‘Twas “Sapho”, and his voice was rather shrill;
Small wonder Phao left her quickly, then.
You bought me books of verse with hard-earned coin
And claimed, each time, you thought of me throughout:
While all the sundry flowers of Gascoigne
Were eaten by the sheep of Colin Cloute.
You poured a ruby wine into my cup
And drank to friendship that we had begun;
We took our seats, relaxing as we supped.
‘Twas hours before our feast was truly done.
What can I give, that you might think was clever?
Accept my words, and you shall last forever.
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