Sonnet for a Friend With OCD

“Sonnet for a Friend With OCD”

Consider now the glory of the rose
so short her moment in the throes of life.
I wish for her disorder not proposed
to bloom and bloom in thus repeated strife.

She could be vain and pose as does the tree
but nature gives her one, small moment’s pride.
She calms the chatter heard among the bees;
she smooths the wind so soft, her petals glide.

But, now that rose love gifted once to bloom;
once glorified, her pause is sure and sweet.
The beat of time’s illusion for a tune;
in silence, she finds no need to repeat.

Oh, what a rose! that mystery so free
that in her being is her constancy.


Kyrielle Sonnet, 14 lines, rhyme: AabB;ccbB;ddbB;AB


I keep you in my warm embrace
though you are gone another place.
Above, where only birdies sing
with song of love’s remembering.

I see your face in all that’s true:
the sunlight reminisces you;
the feathered edge of raindrop’s ping
with song of love’s remembering.

I hear your voice in turtle doves
that whimper when they sing of love
An old, old story I still ring
with song of love’s remembering.

I keep you in my warm embrace
with song of love’s remembering.

For Eve

“For Eve”

As Venus flashes skirts across the heavens,
Undaunted Eve, she passes fruit to Adam.
Amidst the midnight sky she knows a million
stars are wand`dring in her planetarium.
“I’m a garden, strong, to live beneath this Sun.
But distillation of my soul is driven.”
Venus takes her chances ‘oer predicted time;
Eve will grow, uncharted, over any clime.

 A Rispetto, an Italian form of poetry, is a complete poem of two rhyme quatrains with strict meter. The meter is usually iambic tetrameter with a rhyme scheme of abab ccdd. A Heroic Rispetto is written in Iambic pentameter, usually featuring the same rhyme scheme. ( Hendecasyllabic lines)



“Pomegranate” (Rispetto #1, Iambic Tetrameter)

The lady, Eve, came late one night
and whispered sweetly in his ear:
“This pomegranate will not blight;
nor harm God’s admonition seer.”

She split the fruit along its seams;
pink glows the seed as he thus beams.
So great the flow of knowing her
the fruit of Adam she did stir.


The Journey


We caught that train and shared it overnight.
It changed my little sis, myself age eight.
We marched along those aisles; the odor ripe.
Tobacco smoke in places made us faint.

We caught that train and heard its body retch
and tremble at the screaming of those words:
“Aboard!” and forward did the monster stretch
past streets with wheels that screeched like blackened birds.

A mournful cry  his call in places gray
though bound to die,  he rumbles right along.
Go puff! go puff! and then his talk and sway
blows circled, whitened clouds behind in throngs.

We caught that train and mastered many fears;
we heard our mother’s voice beyond our tears.



Oh, Green, Green, Green, Green, Green!

Oh, Green, Green, Green, Green, Green!

Comes April, as expected, babbling.
An idiot’s delight, her tresses dressed;
her yellow-noise among the branches sing:
“I lift your spirit with my sunny breast.”

April’s here again; seductive creeper;
among the dandelions nods her song.
Splen`drous! she regales us with her blinders
of green and leafy circles; vining throngs.

And lo, she shows the lock where is my heart.
She promises…defies the morning chill.
No matter, I will trust her insane start.
My mind now stymied underneath her will.

Oh, lunatic! enchanter of the Spring.
And we are willing partners to your green!

The Poet

“The Poet”

Due West
I daily travel
seeking my Elysium; the perfect word;
the startled thought expressing love
found in long lines stretching to eternity.
I trace
the same worn pathway
as Ulysses; my utterances pitched against
that hazed horizon where no sound; nothing bounces back
pitch black
save the recognition of my voice spiraling through the dusty ether.
I pause in reverence of that soul, alone; God-like.
I clone myself in circles; writing momentary sounds in the Now;
hungry for the wing`ed phrase
to set my poem free…
and split infinity.

Another Monday

The morning sun invades like wing`ed gull.
White, shuttered light peeps through the silent lull.
Against my bedroom wall the sun now blinks.
My eyes; my lashes, stuttering, are dull.

My yawn, too cavernous and widely spent,
now breaks this solemn scene of sunlit tint.
And, groaning in my bones, my back is bent.
My feet must hit the floor and firmly sent.

Too soon; too soon my Monday work day comes.
Ah, here it is; another gleaming sun.
Another day I’ve won to shine within;
enlightened is this morn that’s now begun.

Awake! and grab the shades of life before
the sun so high, it traces all your floor!
Stand up and breach the brilliance of your path
before that kiss of day shall be no more!

(Form: Rubaiyat form: a,a,b,a (quatrains) iambic pentameter)