Triolet

I was in a class on Saturday and the exercise was to take one of the famous Mediaeval or Renaissance first lines that had been chosen by the teacher and write a new ending for it.

This first line is from the Lais of Marie de France by Yonec. It was written about A.D. 1170. The word 'paved' does not have the accent in any of the translations I've seen; I added it because I thought the line worked better that way.

The form used here is a triolet and the rhyme scheme is: ABaAabAB

In a big room, pavéd with stone
Lies my love; pale, cold, dead, and grieved.
He’s in his coffin, his face shown
In a big room, pavéd with stone.
He was the sweetest man I’d known
And his demise leaves me bereaved.
In a big room, pavéd with stone
Lies my love; pale, cold, dead, and grieved.

Sonnet 24

I don't know how I'm going to be able to work on the novel that goes with this sonnet sequence. I can't concentrate enough to do any writing.

This sonnet is one that I wrote for my ex when we were dating. I like to think that I've improved as a poet. I may end up using it in the sequence anyway.

I've heard that there are people who can care
As much for jewelled knives and cloth-of-gold
And that which, in a market, can be sold
As for their lover's thoughts. Some people dare
To claim the robes which they so proudly wear
Are finer still than all love's whispers. Bold
Are the people who think that owning gold
Is sweeter than the kisses that they share.
But you and I know better than to leave
The sweetness of our lover's lips unkissed.
No fools are we who'd rather spend our days
Embraced. By living thus, we shall not grieve
For all the times and chances we have missed.
We'll share our love. The rest may go their way.

Sonnet 23

How can my tongue be still, while my heart cries
To tell you of my love in song and tale?
How can my silence reign, when timely sighs
Would tell you more than words could e'er unveil?
Think not that by my silence I must fail
To see the glory that is yours alone.
If love could, over silent lips prevail,
My heart would then, to your heart, be well known.
Your aspect renders words mere commonplace.
And yet the thought of speech fills me with flame.
If I could no more look upon your face,
No Christian stone would ever bear my name.
Through silence I will love in my own ways,
And deem the most effusive words poor praise.

Acrostic

Another sonnet not for the sequence.

Fly, fly my crazy dreams of love, into the deepest night
Or else begone to lovers’ hell with the approaching day
Lest I somehow confuse my passions’ dream with hostile day;
Lest I confuse my busy day with dreamy passion’d night.
Oh, let my life be satisfied with sleep-benumbing night
With all that I could ever need to occupy each day.
That I might some way find a distant pleasure in my day
However much I may desire a thrilling, sleepless night.
Each time I dream of my love’s skillful hands and ardour’s night
Dew-eyed, I turn to face my legal lord in light of day
Rememb’ring just how long he has avoided me by night,
Each polished courtesan, in turn, commands his arm by day.
Although my sweet-tongued lover may not come to me by night,
My love’s soft words remind me how beloved I am by day.

Another sestina -- this one for the novel

This sestina was a challenge from a friend of mine; to use "think", plus the five senses. I had hoped to turn this into a double sestina, but couldn't think of anything more to say. Maybe the next one ...

Helos:
I have to say, I don’t know what to think.
I know her only by the things I see.
There are, of course, the rumours that I hear
That are certainly bound, my heart, to touch.
I cannot forget her delicate scent
And yearn to know how sweet her full lips taste.

Thoe:
I like to think I’m known for having taste.
Yet, untroubled by what the Courtiers think
I have eschewed the stronger vials of scent.
What he thinks of that; I will wait and see.
I cannot forget his hands’ gentle touch
When dancing to music I still can hear.

Helos:
What is this silent music that I hear
Inside my head? It’s giving me a taste
For gracious dances; for when I could touch
And surrender my mind, so I would think
No more. Yet, when I close my eyes, I see
Her laughing face and inhale her slight scent.

Thoe:
I remember well his crisp, earthy scent.
Every rich baritone voice that I hear
Makes me want to turn my head to see
If it is he. Oh, for a single taste
Of those sweet lips, but what would people think
If they knew how I yearned for his touch?

Helos:
She’s right there! Shall I put it to the touch?
Or will she think I’m flying from the scent?
I find I care about what she will think.
I wonder what sort of tales she might hear
Among women of elegance and taste?
I guess I shall just have to wait and see.

Thoe:
Sometimes I can’t believe what my eyes see.
He’s so handsome that it’s hard not to touch.
I keep on wondering how he would taste
And if it’s akin to his stirring scent.
If he would but state his case, I would hear.
My brains are scrambled and it’s hard to think.

Helos:
I think I am partial to what I see
And what I hear. How I hunger to touch;
Breathe her understated scent; know her taste.

Sonnet 22

Come, bind me to you with your pensive eyes;
Those eyes that promise pleasure through the nights,
Ever to raise me up on passion’s tides.
Mind how you lead to ever greater heights.
Now, bind me to you with your luscious lips.
Words fail you not, but do you honour sir;
In that you warm me with your clever quips
And whispered words that ever prove a lure.
And bind me to you, for your gifted hands
Are captivating me with tempting touch.
My heart has followed you to many lands;
Heart-stopping when your fingers prove too much.
Then bind me -- eyes, lips, hands -- without a sound
For I am here to serve you, I'll be bound.

Sonnet 21

I hear your voice in public, and your measured words
Remind me that we must, the busy world, deceive.
I know your voice in private, when your whispered words
Reveal to me the wicked passion I’ll receive.
I feel your hands in public, and your gentle touch
Is reassuring me that I am not alone.
I know your hands in private, where your heated touch
Excites responses unlike any I have known.
I feel your lips in public, and your tender kiss
Whispers against my cheek; a manner that’s so chaste.
I know your lips in private; how your passioned kiss
Can stir my very essence with our salty taste.
Come, share your love with me, my only heart’s desire.
Your voice, your hands, your lips, have all set my blood afire.

Sonnet 20

How can the world conceive itself complete
While it stays unaware that we are one?
Your eyes speak volumes when our gazes meet.
‘Tis meet that we have shared our tale with none.
We feign disinterest that’s nearly cold;
A lie that, on the surface, I accept.
Your touch expresses passion well controlled
Within a shell of silence, sternly kept.
The sweetness that you offer me has fed
Such dreams as are unfit for prudent ears.
Your lips say nought, and nothing need be said
Though we’ve not been together many years.
In silence will I plead for my delight:
My friend by day; my greatest love by night.

Sonnet 19

My life was dark; ice filled my veins and soul.
I’d never even known the warmth of praise.
My heart was frozen hard; that took its toll
As I had been untouched by Helos’ rays.
But then his path did change; he followed mine.
I felt his touch and then I sensed a thaw.
To me, the world seemed strangely new-defined
By what I smelled and tasted, heard and saw.
His rays caressed my skin, which warmer grew.
The warmth became a fire which burned within
Yet I’d not quench it -- though it burn me through --
For playing with fire could not be a sin.
Though I may burn, vanish without a trace,
Aflame, I float when warmed by his embrace.

Sonnet 18 - an echo sonnet

Look on my ceaseless efforts, haughty one,
(Haughty one,)
And see how you would wound me with your vain
( You're vain!)
Negligence; tell me, when will you be done,
( Be done)
Glorious love, treating me with disdain?
( With disdain.)
Hear my fervent pleas, my feckless one.
( Feckless one,)
Only give me a moment to explain:
( Explain)
Look on my face and tell me why you shun
( Why you shun)
My love. I'll not rest until my refrain
( My refrain.)
Engages you. I'll stay in Albion
( In Albion)
'Til the end of time and I would remain
( I would remain)
Only yours, sweet Charity. If I won,
( If I won)
Worthy soul, I would be with you again.
( You again.)
Eagerly I will wait 'til unison.
( 'Til unison,)
Refuse me; you will find I'm all undone.
( I'm all undone!)