The Choice: A heroic crown of sonnets.

1. The course in life we take

It is a choice that proves or damns us all,
A crossroads from which none may be exempt.
There we must find the strength and wherewithal
To wisely act when circumstances tempt.
Our wants and obligations will conflict.
Decisions that we, in that instant, make
Whose consequence–too distant to predict–
Forever shape the course in life we take.
It’s well observed that human nature’s frail
And good intentions often go awry.
When even those of public prestige fail
To show integrity, what chance have I?
Despite the moral heights to which men climb,
It must confront us all in life sometime.

2. Lies great and small

It must confront us all in life sometime–
That sinking feeling when you’ve been deceived,
On realizing there’s no reason, rhyme
In articles of faith you once believed.
The so-called experts peddle shameless fraud
By posing as benevolent and learned
To infantile and docile masses awed
By pretense of authority unearned.
They claim to know how best we all should live;
That culture, context help t’ assay an act;
That truth, morality are relative;
While we absorb these fictions as though fact.
  How can one choose amid lies great and small
  To heed or to reject temptation’s call?

3. Temptation’s call

To heed or to reject temptation’s call?
To master self or be a slave to whim?
A man who stands for nothing’s sure to fall
With every pleasing breeze that touches him.
A man must understand what’s wrong and right.
His knowledge of them must be firm and sure.
Though he may profit saying black is white,
Strong principles will help resist the lure.
His purpose must be well thought-out and clear.
He must know what–and why–he can believe.
To get someplace, he must know where to steer.
There’s little that blind fumbling will achieve!
  Far greater men than I fall from their prime
  When depth of feeling can’t excuse the crime.

4. What you do

When depth of feeling can’t excuse the crime,
To choose aright, you first must know you should.
There’s more to this old right-wrong paradigm
Than what within the moment may feel good.
If you don’t get to know your inner voice
Before those times when you are wracked with doubt,
How can you make a clear-eyed, reasoned choice?
Don’t wait until you’re tested to find out.
For actions make the man in people’s eyes.
To others, who you are is what you do.
A man defines himself first if he’s wise
And acts his principles. So who are you?
  Some never find their footing, nor know how.
  No lasting gain does chance alone allow.

5. Instant satisfaction

No lasting gain does chance alone allow.
Prosperity won’t rain down from the sky.
A happy life is built on sweat of brow.
On our own efforts we must first rely.
Our culture does not teach us to direct
Attention to what really should come first.
Somehow, without exertion, we expect
An instant satisfaction to each thirst.
The media promote this sophistry
Though vapid, fatuous, because it sells.
We follow, courting ruin eagerly,
Enchanted as though by a witch’s spells.
  This Siren voice a sweet, seductive liar–
  She’ll tease and drive a man wild with desire!

6. Unattainable

She’ll tease and drive a man wild with desire.
She’ll flirt and let him think he has a chance
Then with a frigid turn, she’ll douse the fire.
To her this wretched tango’s called “romance”.
It’s not the prize she’s after; it’s the chase.
She wants to be pursued but not be won.
Since she’s the stronger runner in this race,
It’s she who holds the power; I have none.
Relentless heartache’s unsustainable.
Too long I’ve vainly loved her from afar.
To me she’s just as unattainable
As if she were a famous movie star.
    I never dreamed I’d feel so lovelorn now
    That blissful day I spoke our wedding vow.

7. Wedge

That blissful day I spoke our wedding vow,
I thought of joys the days ahead could bring
As if some magic power to endow
A carefree life resided in that ring.
Rejection can be toxic to love’s trust.
Too frequent, it can sicken, foul the heart.
Too harsh it spreads a doubt with time that must
Become a wedge that drives two halves apart.
While my own longtime wife, beloved and dear
Says “No” and brusquely pushes me away,
Another young and pretty face draws near
Whose smile, whose eyes, whose touch tempt me to stray.
  What cruel Fates are these who now conspire?!
  I knew not what resolve it would require!

8. Desired again

I knew not what resolve it would require
To keep my distance from your warmth, your charms,
To calm the fearsome longing you inspire,
To not fall eagerly into your arms.
You bring to life some part of me once dead.
As you approach, I feel my spirits rise.
All thoughts of caution vanish from my head
When I get lost deep in your sapphire eyes.
How wonderful to feel desired again
By one as sweet and beautiful as you!
Temptation finds us all sometime. What then?
What must a married man with children do?
  If whim and duty cannot coexist,
  So much of life could easily be missed!

9. Resigned

So much of life could easily be missed
While focused only on the negative.
And if we never gave in, never kissed,
Or took no risks, is that a way to live?
Why not throw caution to the wind? Submit
To what our hearts and bodies both demand?
You draw me in. Why am I fighting it?
Your pull is almost too great to withstand!
Don’t we deserve to find some happiness?
To do in heat of passion what feels right?
We owe it to ourselves to do no less–
Surrender to these fantasies tonight.
  To these brash, reckless mindsets we’re resigned
  Without a deeper purpose clear in mind.

10. Restraint

Without a deeper purpose clear in mind,
What reason would I have to show restraint?
I’m not much to impulsive vice inclined,
But neither can I claim to be a saint.
How could I tell my children what I’d done?
That I had hurt them to be with another?
That I, for shallow, momentary fun,
For my own selfish needs, betrayed their mother?
It may be what I feel for you is strong.
Your every molecule may be divine.
It doesn’t matter what I feel; it’s wrong.
We know I can’t be yours and nor you mine.
  And while you tempt me toward a desp’rate tryst,
  It will take strength undreamed of to resist.

11. Invitation

It will take strength undreamed of to resist
Your urgent whisp’rings, though I know I should.
Some part of me still wishes you’d insist
And take me knowing I’m not sure I could!
Oh, I could sink deep into your embrace.
Desire combats resolve; it’s poised to win.
My eyes find invitation in your face.
Engulf me in your presence! Pull me in!
Don’t storm away! Don’t let me just say no!
I plead with you, cry out in my own head.
The moment gone, I watch you turn to go.
My lips unmoving, guilty words unsaid.
  Now will I steel myself to leave behind
  Those fleeting empty thrills in life we find?

12. To know and do

Those fleeting empty thrills in life we find,
Those balms we use to salve wounds of the soul
Will over time become disease in kind
When sought too frequently to plug a hole.
A choice that’s painful may yet be correct.
Another may be simple and succinct
But difficult to make and to effect.
To know, to do, are matters quite distinct!
If we had met some other place and time,
Perhaps I’d be yours in another life.
I may some days feel much aggrieved, but I’m
Not ready yet to give up on my wife.
  And if as thinking beings we are meant,
  Our happiness is no mere accident.

13. Reasoned action

Our happiness is no mere accident
Nor luck, nor boon that someone else can give.
Our happiness depends to great extent
On how we view the world in which we live:
Does reasoned action by us serve a goal,
Or is our flourishing mere birth and chance?
We feel ourselves empowered, in control
Or victims of time, fate, and circumstance.
Perhaps our marriage won’t be constant bliss,
My all-too-human wife, no deity.
But I must share the blame in all of this.
To her, I’m not the man that I should be.
  I’ll put my family first and not relent.
  It is an act of will to be content.

14. Triumph

It is an act of will to be content–
Look back at life and say you’re satisfied
While wond’ring where your dreams and best years went,
Despite those times you failed or never tried.
Our wants exceed our means. That’s no surprise.
Our plans exceed the brief time that we get.
We find one day we must prioritize.
Our lives are short; some hopes must go unmet.
And yet this means no reason for despair!
There’s comfort in successes that we build.
We can’t be happy whining “Life’s not fair!”
We choose to feel forlorn or feel fulfilled.
By this we seal our triumph or our fall.
It is a choice that proves or damns us all.

15. No accident

It is a choice that proves or damns us all;
It must confront us all in life sometime:
To heed or to reject Temptation’s call
When depth of feeling can’t excuse the crime.
No lasting gain does Chance alone allow.
She’ll tease and drive a man wild with desire.
That blissful day I spoke our wedding vow,
I knew not what resolve it would require.
So much of life could easily be missed
Without a deeper purpose clear in mind.
It will take strength undreamed of to resist
Those fleeting empty thrills in life we find.
  Our happiness is no mere accident;
  t is an act of will to be content.

By Gavin M. Quinn

Love at First Glance

Sonnet IYour eyes are liquid pools in which I sink
The centers dark, yet filled with so much light
Can’t look away, I dare not even blink
In case I miss the nuance of your sight.
The lashes seem too pretty for a man
But thickly cast a shadow, which I see
Just adds to intrigue, with their depth and span
Awakens something at the heart of me.But if you capture me with just a glance
It must be so with many others too,
I am unsure if I would stand a chance
Of challenging and interesting you.Desire it seems already now has grown
To greater depths than I have ever known.

Sonnet II

To greater depths than I have ever known
When all it took was just a single glance,
For in a rush my senses have all flown
Into a waltz, a swirling, twirling dance.
I do not know if I can cross this floor
That separates us now, but your eyes call
And I’m obliged to heed the certain roar
Be brave or let the curtain on us fall.

But more than eyes reached out to say hello
The timbre of your voice a pleasant thrill,
I stumble then, the words won’t seem to flow
My thoughts are lost, and gone against my will.

Oh damn, I know I really need a drink!
I cannot voice the wonder that I think.

Sonnet III

I cannot voice the wonder that I think
Your eyes have drawn me in and now I’m hooked.
The world around us goes away, just shrinks
To naught, I think, by a sweet piercing look!
Your mouth says words, I only see your lips
They are so curved, look firm and oh so warm,
You’re godlike from your hair down to your hips
My thoughts are scattered in your perfect storm.

I wonder why your look seemed so intense,
But still I am enraptured by your glow.
I think perhaps I am a little dense;
What’s there about me you should want to know?

Your hand is smooth, I bite away my moan
My thoughts a mess, a writhing small cyclone.

Sonnet IV

My thoughts a mess, a writhing small cyclone
My heart it stutter steps within my breast,
I pray you cannot hear its restless groan
And hope yours feels, within that manly chest.
Your eyes, still looking deeply into mine
(I wonder why I cannot look away?)
Bring shivers to my skin and up my spine
So totally I am within your sway.

My fingers want to touch, they need to say
Out loud how much your gaze has shaken me;
I must be mad! My nerves are in a fray,
I’m praying that there’s truth in what I see.

Throw caution to the wind? What’s the big deal?
I want to tell you how I truly feel.

Sonnet V

I want to tell you how I truly feel
How fired your eyes have made me from the start,
The all of you, that latent sex appeal
I struggle with the words I must impart.
I gather up my courage, take a breath
And hope I sound so confident and bold
Because if I don’t speak then I’ll be left
To always wonder, what if I had told.

Then suddenly the band begins to play
You bow to me and ask me for a dance,
We go out on the floor and closely sway
And once more words are swept with fine romance.

You stare at me, I’m totally engrossed
But words escape me when I need them most.

Sonnet VI

But words escape me when I need them most
I’m on cloud nine, no words are needed now.
He thinks, This woman, dancing with me close
Seems so much fun, but now I must allow
Her access to my deeper self as well
For texture, image, and demeanor too
Broadcast that words unsaid will soon compel
My heart and soul to take a deeper view.

She looks reluctant, timid and surprised,
Perhaps afraid her words won’t show their worth.
She speaks such volumes flowing from her eyes
I feel her voice will flow with care and mirth.

I’ll vouch that words will soon my soul anneal
Your eyes just mesmerize; my heart, once steel.

Sonnet VIIYour eyes just mesmerize; my heart, once steel
Has melted now; surprised how readily
A look can reach across and make me feel;
My strength erodes, heart beats unsteadily.
Your perfume rises up and takes my sense,
My hands around your waist, they tremble too
Against love’s call I have no strong defense
When all I seem to want is only you.
We’ve hardly said a word and yet your eyes
Have said so much, without an uttered line.
My head it spins, you’re such a natural high
I need to find a way to make you mine.My breath deserts me when it matters most
Just falls apart and leaves me like a ghost.

Sonnet VIII

Just falls apart and leaves me like a ghost
Composure slips, but cannot help myself.
I need to get a grip or diagnose
Myself a fool; I feel like someone else!
You’re watching me as if you cannot wait
For me to utter something cute or smart,
But all I do is curse myself, berate
For staying oh so quiet from the start.

I breathe and finally my lips awake
I hear the words and cringe; oh what a mess!
“You dance so well”, is all that I can shake
Out from my mind, and now I feel distress.

You smile as if you see my silly fears
I am in constant blush, I know you hear.

Sonnet IXI am in constant blush, I know you hear
And wonder if you think that I am less
Than every woman you’ve known here and there;
That causes me to think and to assess.
The music stops but we stay standing close
As if we are afraid to break some spell
And caught up in a dream we softly pose
Like lovers, who cannot their passions quell.You ask me if I’d like to take a seat
And talk a while, and lead me from the floor
I nod and force some movement from my feet
And softly say “I’d like that, I am sure”.I shake my head, I know I need to cool
My mumblings, you must think me such a fool.

Sonnet X

My mumblings, you must think me such a fool
My mind replays- until you speak and say,
“I’m not so tongue-tied as a general rule,
But then again, I’ve never felt this way”.
I hesitate to interrupt this brief
Connection where our touching speaks instead
Of words, but still I find it a relief
That I want more than taking you to bed.

That raw desire could make guy’s words self-serving
Make compliments and praise be deemed a ploy,
And yet of all such praise you’re most deserving
And your non-verbal cues have brought me joy.

When I’m supposed to be precise and clear
I cannot string a line together dear.

Sonnet XII cannot string a line together dear
So hold my hand while clouds of phrases bounce
Across my mind before they disappear.
I stutter when you give your hair a flounce.
There’s nothing I can tell you that is new
For every man before has surely tried
To frame in words, the loveliness of you
With every phrase their muses could provide.
Our fingers touching tells me it’s okay,
That words aren’t too important on this night.
I sense you’re feeling lost in this same way
At loss for words, but found in shared delight.Pretense would drown in eyes deep liquid pool;
Your smiling eyes, they make me so uncool.

Sonnet XII

Your smiling eyes, they make me so uncool,
But so infectious, I can’t help but smile,
I think I’m grinning like some silly fool
I haven’t felt this reckless in a while!
Your fingers grow a warmth in me that I
Cannot resist, I feel your moonlike pull
And like the tide I flow towards your sky
And somehow you just make me feel so full.

You whisper softly, leaning in to me
And touch a finger to my blushing cheek,
You say how much my eyes look like the sea
And trace of finger makes me feel so weak.

I stammer “thank you”, so caught on your hook
Your eyes so warm, I almost cannot look.
 

Sonnet XIIIYour eyes so warm, I almost cannot look
The passions well and make me feel so small,
How can I breathe, when all the air you took?
How fast, how fast, so easily I fall!
Your beauty is a wonder I should hold
I’ve never been so taken with one glance!
And I’ll presume to be so very bold
And say that this is love, I’m in a trance!
All words forgot, your lips are claiming mine
And then I know the all of what I feel.
You bubble to my head like mellow wine
This kiss is all we need to seal the deal.
Our love it babbles like a raging brook,
Through love, we read each other like a book.

Sonnet XIV

Through love, we read each other like a book
My heart is bared to you, I read your eyes
And there, with such intensity of look
Is everything I need, right there it lies.
I ask if I can see you once again
But know I never want to be without,
And sigh with happiness when you exclaim
The “yes” that erases my every doubt.

We kiss once more, your lips just speak to me
And hand in hand we leave our meeting place,
And I am still in awe, but feel so free
Enraptured by the wonder of your face.

I am amazed how two hearts can be linked;
Your eyes are liquid pools in which I sink.

Sonnet XV

Your eyes are liquid pools in which I sink
To greater depths than I have ever known,
I cannot voice the wonder that I think
My thoughts a mess, a writhing small cyclone.
I want to tell you how I truly feel
But words escape me when I need them most,
Your eyes just mesmerize; my heart, once steel
Just falls apart and leaves me like a ghost.

I am in constant blush, I know you hear
My mumblings, you must think me such a fool.
I cannot string a line together dear
Your smiling eyes, they make me so uncool.

Your eyes so warm, I almost cannot look
Through love, we read each other like a book.

Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Princess (Sensual)

I stood upon the ancient parapet,
yes, recklessly atop the castle walls
the stone was slick, and gray and still so wet
from rain that night had brought with heavy fall.
My room below was safe, and dry and pink;
a letter waited there on filmy bed;
high, high upon the wall I went to think
to clear the sighs and tangles from my head.
The letter had a seal that made me cold,
it glittered in the window’s dawny light;
I knew the ink inside would be black, bold;
unopened, it had lay there all the night.
I walked the parapet in ache and doubt;
my gown was caught by wind and blown about.
My gown was caught by wind and blown about;
I wobbled then, and grasped a jutting wall,
but let it go; yes, heedlessly I’d flout
caution’s bounds and tempt a deadly fall;
I didn’t care; my stomach thrilled inside
to see how high, how very high I stood;
I lifted chin, and arms I opened wide
and played at bird; I thought the feeling good.
I frolicked then, atop the windy stone
and felt the wind press right against my eyes;
I stumbled back to roof, too fiercely blown
but parapet I climbed again; this rise
did not concern me with its heady threat;
I gave great thought to where each foot was set.
I gave great thought to where each foot was set;
another hour I spent there in the sun,
until the stone showed not a bit of wet
and I was tired of airy, windy fun.
Then I sought out my room and letter there,
which waited still; I broke the royal seal
and thick black words then rose and grimly stared
quite heedless of the way they made me feel.
My father wrote; he ordered me away
to meet him in great castle in the east.
A bridegroom waited, in his fine array,
a mighty match was made, and mighty feast.
I packed my trunks, and trousseau and my flute,
I wore my beaded shoes along my route.
I wore my beaded shoes along my route,
they made me feel that all would turn out well;
but then the man could be a wicked brute;
we’d never met, I had no way to tell.
My father made me travel in disguise;
in abbot’s clothes I traveled with the priests,
and in this way he kept me from men’s eyes-
so few I’d seen! (They told me men were beasts.)
We traveled days; a man then joined our train;
I saw his face! I loved! My heart was hot!
I watched him through the window and in pain;
desire stirred; but this I’d never sought.
I pulled my clothes away from legs within;
the sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin.
The sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin;
the man was walking by my carriage door;
I loved the beard upon his very chin,
I felt no woman ever loved before!
We stopped the night in town with so few rooms,
and host, unknowing, bunked the man with me!
I called him to my bed, my longing womb
then told me there was something more to see…
He thought me man, so I pulled off my clothes
and offered then my troth to plight and give
or he should leave! He said, “My passion shows!
Yes! Give me ring and share the life I live!”
He taught me joy throughout that magic night!
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight.
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight,
we didn’t sleep at all, and glared at dawn;
and though we saw the coming of the light
we didn’t want love’s night to be all gone
so we ignored the stirring of the place
and while I sat atop my thrilling steed
the door swung open, and an old man’s face
showed shock and horror; horror yes indeed!
For Holy Abbot was not even man!
And more than that, he was a princess, high!
And more than that (he couldn’t understand!)
the princess was in bed! Her royal thighs!
Astonished, he went out the door again.
A man called Jove knew all my secret sin.
A man called Jove knew all my secret sin,
he was a knight who served my father well;
my troth was plighted, but I knew just then
the worth of that- for Jove of course would tell.
But what of journey? And the waiting groom?
It was too late- I loved- it was too late.
Unless of course, they sent my love to tomb;
my father’s anger might not hesitate.
The man I loved was high born and well made,
his name was Samuel; pleasant was his wit;
a rugged swordsman, skilled with many blades-
yes, surely surely, they’d see he was fit.
I pulled him near, and held him very tight;
the past’s black chains seemed paper in the light.
The past’s black chains seemed paper in the light;
a wedding now seemed black and full of fear
unless to he I bound with in the night;
yes, bound with well and truly, charming dear!
And still we moved through hills and moors and streams,
onward, onward, to reach my father’s halls;
but half the time I was immersed in dreams
of Samuel’s whispers and his passion calls.
I gave up costume, and let Samuel ride
in royal carriage, cuddled up to me,
but sometimes we would walk at carriage side
along stone paths, beneath the spreading trees.
I was so glad, so glad, he was my own;
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone.
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone;
he laughed and kissed, because my eyes were bright,
the knights were angry when we were alone
and kept us from each other in the night.
Yes, no one knew how Father might respond
and if this other marriage must be had,
the less that I was left to cling and bond
the less that I would think the marriage bad.
But all shook heads; no virgin now was I!
No holy prize! No lamb to shear with pride!
If diplomatic favors I would buy
far fewer now would buy this unchaste bride.
My father might have much to say to me!
The wind picked up and roared most dismally.
The wind picked up and roared most dismally,
we stayed the night with Duke in castle keep;
I tossed and turned, a restless, churning sea;
within the mighty bed I couldn’t sleep.
I called my maid and made her rub my back,
but still I sighed, and listened to the wind,
and to the castle’s groan and heave and crack;
the old rooms talked and felt like gentle friend.
At last I sent Suzanne back to her bed
and leaned my face against the window glass,
so wishing, wishing, wishing I was wed
and all the worry was already past.
While sitting in the window all alone,
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone.
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone,
and I got up, and pulled on velvet cloak,
and went right then to seek what was my own,
I found his room, himself, his kiss, his stroke…
Once more the night was spent as nights should be
and we were laughing in the candlelight.
I said, “You know you’re risking death for me…
Are you afraid it might not turn out right?”
He said, “My time with you is worth the rest;
if I should die, I die a man well loved,
and loved by you, I’d die a man well blessed;
I’ve had the joys they say they have above.”
He said, “Come stand and turn, and let me see.”
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me.
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me,
and he delighted in my flesh and reached
to graze the hips then turning, turning free
before he seized, and huskily, beseeched.
I gave him what he wished and loving, craved,
and softly kissed his chest, and neck and cheeks;
I paused to pray to God he would be saved-
that we would have the favor honor seeks.
I went back to my rooms through quiet halls
the guards, asleep, then never moved or stirred.
With dawn, I feared my father’s love was small
though in the past he’d praised my every word.
But then he might roar “Death!” while Samuel fell…
I knew my secret I would have to tell.
I knew my secret I would have to tell;
and we were almost there! Oh what a thing!
And yet what if instead, I had done “well”
and never told my love or traded rings,
and married other man while loving him?
Yes, surely that is sinning just as much
as telling truth. Perhaps it is more prim
to wait for priest before the wedded touch,
but if I had, no chance would then remain;
my only chance of love was love embraced.
But we were there! Would darling man be slain?
I entered court and saw my father’s face!
I trembled with a fear I couldn’t quell!
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!
The bridegroom waited there, and royal priest.
My father rose and looked at Samuel well.
A perfect silence reigned- all movement ceased.
My father called my name and made me stand;
he said, “So this man pleases you, my dear?”
I said, “My heart so loves his fine command
I couldn’t bear a life without him near.”
My father said, “We’ve sought a tie for years
with Samuel’s house. The wedding is tonight.
You’ve done a thing that bribes and war and tears
could never bring to terms or friendly light.
My daughter, you have done a royal thing
with little hands, and sweetly traded rings.
I stood upon the ancient parapet,
my gown was caught by wind and blown about,
I gave great thought to where each foot was set,
I wore my beaded shoes along my route.
The sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin;
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight.
a man called Jove knew all my secret sin,
the past’s black chains seemed paper in the light.
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone,
the wind picked up and roared most dismally;
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone,
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me;
I knew my secret I would have to tell;
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!

Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Fairy



The fairy princess chose him for a king;
she found him walking through a crowded wood,
and followed him on iridescent wing;
her heart then singing fairy music good.
He was not young, but fairies see the soul
his mind was diamond, heart was rainbowed light;
she saw where others were a mass of coal
this man, this one, was brilliant beacon bright.
She flitted then, from branch to branch, concealed
and judged the man on way and secret thought;
she saw in him some wicked ways revealed,
but basked in beauty deep within him, caught.
She feared to love; though loving would be just;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust.

The man was fragile, born of clay and dust,
a short-lived mortal, hardly just a breath.
Though heart toward love was wildly, deeply thrust
she knew her love would only end in death.
A fairy prince would make a better king;
a thousand years would pass like seven days,
but love a man? How sharp would be the sting
when breath was gone; how short man’s spirit stays!
She shuddered then, with thought of all the loss
and yet his soul was lovelier than theirs;
no fairy prince had half his rainbow’s gloss
no fairy prince had such a light to share.
No, it was he who must and should be king.
Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring.

Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring,
what sweet delight his reign would mean to her;
if he, a man, were made the fairy king,
so many hearts would sing with joy and stir;
the fairy babes would each bask in his light,
and grow so strong, and brighter for his thought;
and in the dances on the moony nights
the songs would glitter with the notes he taught;
yes, all the world of fairies would rejoice
if broad-souled man would take the fairy crown;
the woods were filled by glory of his voice;
in waves of music sweetly she would drown.
And yet though love rose thrilling and robust,
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.

Her fairy heart knew better than to trust;
she knew that men are fickle, and unkind,
and yet she felt despite it all she must
reveal herself and all her fairy mind.
She sang a harmony to all his song
and when he looked, she landed at his feet,
then made herself much taller, then and strong
’til eye to eye the two of them should meet.
He saw her wings, and knew just what she was;
remembering the stories as a child;
his old heart quailed, and he stepped back because
her beauty’s force was absolutely wild.
He took her hand, but didn’t tell the truth;
he sought through her the secret rose of youth.

He sought through her the secret rose of youth;
the legends told the fairies had this thing;
he didn’t tell the fairy all the truth
because he feared just what the truth would bring.
Yet he was old, his life was nearly spent
and if this rose was in his hands indeed,
the years would fall, and time’s hold would be rent,
while he bloomed freshly as a springing seed.
He wanted this; he hungered for his strength.
What joy to stand in passion’s door again!
The fairy heard his thoughts and all their length,
and knew just what to offer to him then.
“Come with me now, your troubles will be slain;
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain.”

“Some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain,
and I have one that counteracts the years;
why should you age, when sweet one, you could reign,
and never feel another lonely tear?
Come with me now, and take my fairy hand,
and I will give you kingdoms, and my love.
My heart is yours to have and to command,
and you will find me docile as a dove.”
She drew up then; he yearned for her embrace;
her form was lush and promised much delight;
she saw herself reflected in his face
and subtle change in vibrant rainbow light.
He wanted her, as well as rose of youth;
she sought in him an echo of her truth.

She sought in him an echo of her truth;
a fairy’s soul is always changing form;
a fairy heart retains the joy of youth,
and adds to it a passion ever warm;
a fairy sees itself in all its works;
the flowers bloomed, the stars well-shined at night,
no fairy child ever hides or shirks
because their jobs are always a delight.
She loved this man; he loved her love so well,
that they were married, in a fairy ring;
and all the fairies rang the flower bells,
and human man was crowned the fairy king.
So king and queen began their magic reign;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.

She lay with him and all his griefs were slain,
such rapture there beneath her fairy wings!
Their jasper cave was lovely in the rain,
and they had joys that only love can bring.
He felt his age when stroking her smooth skin;
her strength was such he wished his own was more;
she saw these thoughts while in his arms again,
and kissed his cheek, then flew through jasper door.
Her heard her land in gravel late at night,
and in her arms she bore a glowing bloom;
it filled the cave with gentle crimson light,
and glorified the shining jasper room.
She came to him as if she’d lie and rest,
he held her close; she placed rose in his breast.

He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
and as he slept, the years each fell away.
The rose’s scent perfumed the cave and blessed;
the rose’s bloom unworked cruel time’s decay.
When morning came; he rose a man of power,
his body twenty, or perhaps eighteen;
and how he blessed the magic of the flower
that left his skin so perfect, smooth and clean.
The fairy laughed to see the joy he took,
and held him then, to share in his heart’s bliss;
she stood far back and took another look,
and offered him another fairy kiss.
She looked, and yet her eyes were not quite dry;
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die.

His heart grew young, and yet he still could die,
his mortal form was still a frightening thought.
She loved him much, and couldn’t help but cry
because with danger his dear life was fraught.
The fairies all took counsel time to time,
and worried over his mortality,
he stood there, glowing, in his vibrant prime
but age and death would never let that be.
There was one way to give him lasting life,
too terrible to even think about;
the magic stripped from fairy wedded wife
would give him wings, while she would go without.
She lie awake against his human breast,
her fairy heart would never give her rest.

Her fairy heart would never give her rest,
she watched him walk, while flying, she danced air;
she searched old books for answers in her quest
to find a way to bring him wings to wear.
What life he’d find! What joys he’d know as king!
What beauties would his bright soul then unfold?
What good was life if his death it would bring?
What good was love if shortly dead and cold?
She loved him so; she longed to give him all,
but what of her? And how would she exist?
Her fairy heart considered such a fall,
and what it cost to love the man she kissed.
She wept, he’d never felt the gentle sky;
she longed for day that he could rise and fly.

She longed for day that he could rise and fly;
at last her heart was broken with his plight;
3,000 years she’d lived, but not known why;
but now she lived in glory of his light.
It wasn’t right that one so beautiful
should go unwinged, and have the shortest life
while she, a fairy with the eras full
should fly, uncaring, though she was his wife.
The rose would only work a single time;
she had to act to give him many years,
for why should he, a creature so sublime
feel rough, raw age, or know a dying fear?
She loved him true; and after final soar,
her fairy dust she stripped from very core.


Her fairy dust she stripped from very core;
her light went out, her wings both dried and snapped,
she pulled and pulled until there was no more,
then carried dust to where her husband napped.
She knelt beside him while her tears fell thick,
and rubbed the dust into his human skin,
she paused, head spinning, dizzy now and sick
but forced herself to rub him down again.
The dust sank in through muscle and his bone,
he woke while she was kneading his broad back;
he said, “Oh no! Oh no! This was your own!”
He looked at her, and saw her magic’s lack.
He felt his blood begin a heady roar;
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

He spread his wings and loved her then no more;
her magic gone, she was a human queen;
the fairy king had loved her fairy core,
he’d loved her for her wings and fairy sheen,
and when she gave it all for love of him,
his love failed fast; without her flitting wings
and popping off to chase her varied whims,
her way was not a pleasure to the king.
She loved him well, as fairy and as girl,
her heart was his; they reined and ruled, and yet,
she’d once had wings; she’d hide behind her curls
and weep for flights that she could not forget.
She loved the king far more than light or flight
his glory then became her heart’s delight.

The fairy princess chose him for a king;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust;
her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring;
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.
He sought through her the secret rose of youth
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain;
she sought in him an echo of her truth;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.
He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die;
her fairy heart would never give her rest
she longed for day that he could rise and fly;
her fairy dust she stripped from very core
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

© Streambed. All rights reserved, 10 hours ago

C  
Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Fairy

The fairy princess chose him for a king;
she found him walking through a crowded wood,
and followed him on iridescent wing;
her heart then singing fairy music good.
He was not young, but fairies see the soul
his mind was diamond, heart was rainbowed light;
she saw where others were a mass of coal
this man, this one, was brilliant beacon bright.
She flitted then, from branch to branch, concealed
and judged the man on way and secret thought;
she saw in him some wicked ways revealed,
but basked in beauty deep within him, caught.
She feared to love; though loving would be just;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust.

The man was fragile, born of clay and dust,
a short-lived mortal, hardly just a breath.
Though heart toward love was wildly, deeply thrust
she knew her love would only end in death.
A fairy prince would make a better king;
a thousand years would pass like seven days,
but love a man? How sharp would be the sting
when breath was gone; how short man’s spirit stays!
She shuddered then, with thought of all the loss
and yet his soul was lovelier than theirs;
no fairy prince had half his rainbow’s gloss
no fairy prince had such a light to share.
No, it was he who must and should be king.
Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring.

Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring,
what sweet delight his reign would mean to her;
if he, a man, were made the fairy king,
so many hearts would sing with joy and stir;
the fairy babes would each bask in his light,
and grow so strong, and brighter for his thought;
and in the dances on the moony nights
the songs would glitter with the notes he taught;
yes, all the world of fairies would rejoice
if broad-souled man would take the fairy crown;
the woods were filled by glory of his voice;
in waves of music sweetly she would drown.
And yet though love rose thrilling and robust,
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.

Her fairy heart knew better than to trust;
she knew that men are fickle, and unkind,
and yet she felt despite it all she must
reveal herself and all her fairy mind.
She sang a harmony to all his song
and when he looked, she landed at his feet,
then made herself much taller, then and strong
’til eye to eye the two of them should meet.
He saw her wings, and knew just what she was;
remembering the stories as a child;
his old heart quailed, and he stepped back because
her beauty’s force was absolutely wild.
He took her hand, but didn’t tell the truth;
he sought through her the secret rose of youth.

He sought through her the secret rose of youth;
the legends told the fairies had this thing;
he didn’t tell the fairy all the truth
because he feared just what the truth would bring.
Yet he was old, his life was nearly spent
and if this rose was in his hands indeed,
the years would fall, and time’s hold would be rent,
while he bloomed freshly as a springing seed.
He wanted this; he hungered for his strength.
What joy to stand in passion’s door again!
The fairy heard his thoughts and all their length,
and knew just what to offer to him then.
“Come with me now, your troubles will be slain;
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain.”

“Some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain,
and I have one that counteracts the years;
why should you age, when sweet one, you could reign,
and never feel another lonely tear?
Come with me now, and take my fairy hand,
and I will give you kingdoms, and my love.
My heart is yours to have and to command,
and you will find me docile as a dove.”
She drew up then; he yearned for her embrace;
her form was lush and promised much delight;
she saw herself reflected in his face
and subtle change in vibrant rainbow light.
He wanted her, as well as rose of youth;
she sought in him an echo of her truth.

She sought in him an echo of her truth;
a fairy’s soul is always changing form;
a fairy heart retains the joy of youth,
and adds to it a passion ever warm;
a fairy sees itself in all its works;
the flowers bloomed, the stars well-shined at night,
no fairy child ever hides or shirks
because their jobs are always a delight.
She loved this man; he loved her love so well,
that they were married, in a fairy ring;
and all the fairies rang the flower bells,
and human man was crowned the fairy king.
So king and queen began their magic reign;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.

She lay with him and all his griefs were slain,
such rapture there beneath her fairy wings!
Their jasper cave was lovely in the rain,
and they had joys that only love can bring.
He felt his age when stroking her smooth skin;
her strength was such he wished his own was more;
she saw these thoughts while in his arms again,
and kissed his cheek, then flew through jasper door.
Her heard her land in gravel late at night,
and in her arms she bore a glowing bloom;
it filled the cave with gentle crimson light,
and glorified the shining jasper room.
She came to him as if she’d lie and rest,
he held her close; she placed rose in his breast.

He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
and as he slept, the years each fell away.
The rose’s scent perfumed the cave and blessed;
the rose’s bloom unworked cruel time’s decay.
When morning came; he rose a man of power,
his body twenty, or perhaps eighteen;
and how he blessed the magic of the flower
that left his skin so perfect, smooth and clean.
The fairy laughed to see the joy he took,
and held him then, to share in his heart’s bliss;
she stood far back and took another look,
and offered him another fairy kiss.
She looked, and yet her eyes were not quite dry;
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die.

His heart grew young, and yet he still could die,
his mortal form was still a frightening thought.
She loved him much, and couldn’t help but cry
because with danger his dear life was fraught.
The fairies all took counsel time to time,
and worried over his mortality,
he stood there, glowing, in his vibrant prime
but age and death would never let that be.
There was one way to give him lasting life,
too terrible to even think about;
the magic stripped from fairy wedded wife
would give him wings, while she would go without.
She lie awake against his human breast,
her fairy heart would never give her rest.

Her fairy heart would never give her rest,
she watched him walk, while flying, she danced air;
she searched old books for answers in her quest
to find a way to bring him wings to wear.
What life he’d find! What joys he’d know as king!
What beauties would his bright soul then unfold?
What good was life if his death it would bring?
What good was love if shortly dead and cold?
She loved him so; she longed to give him all,
but what of her? And how would she exist?
Her fairy heart considered such a fall,
and what it cost to love the man she kissed.
She wept, he’d never felt the gentle sky;
she longed for day that he could rise and fly.

She longed for day that he could rise and fly;
at last her heart was broken with his plight;
3,000 years she’d lived, but not known why;
but now she lived in glory of his light.
It wasn’t right that one so beautiful
should go unwinged, and have the shortest life
while she, a fairy with the eras full
should fly, uncaring, though she was his wife.
The rose would only work a single time;
she had to act to give him many years,
for why should he, a creature so sublime
feel rough, raw age, or know a dying fear?
She loved him true; and after final soar,
her fairy dust she stripped from very core.


Her fairy dust she stripped from very core;
her light went out, her wings both dried and snapped,
she pulled and pulled until there was no more,
then carried dust to where her husband napped.
She knelt beside him while her tears fell thick,
and rubbed the dust into his human skin,
she paused, head spinning, dizzy now and sick
but forced herself to rub him down again.
The dust sank in through muscle and his bone,
he woke while she was kneading his broad back;
he said, “Oh no! Oh no! This was your own!”
He looked at her, and saw her magic’s lack.
He felt his blood begin a heady roar;
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

He spread his wings and loved her then no more;
her magic gone, she was a human queen;
the fairy king had loved her fairy core,
he’d loved her for her wings and fairy sheen,
and when she gave it all for love of him,
his love failed fast; without her flitting wings
and popping off to chase her varied whims,
her way was not a pleasure to the king.
She loved him well, as fairy and as girl,
her heart was his; they reined and ruled, and yet,
she’d once had wings; she’d hide behind her curls
and weep for flights that she could not forget.
She loved the king far more than light or flight
his glory then became her heart’s delight.

The fairy princess chose him for a king;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust;
her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring;
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.
He sought through her the secret rose of youth
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain;
she sought in him an echo of her truth;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.
He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die;
her fairy heart would never give her rest
she longed for day that he could rise and fly;
her fairy dust she stripped from very core
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

© Streambed.  Feb. 2014

This is the most beautiful such composition I have ever read.  _Larry Eberhart

Canadian Sonnet – Italian Structure

This is a form invented by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines
 Unique in  presentation as 2 quatrains + 2 Tercets
Generally Iambic Pentameter
Volta at line 9
Rhyme Scheme: abba cddc eff egg 
Same rhyme pattern as Bowlesian Sonnet.
 
Example Poem: 

 
Today’s Best     ( Canadian  Sonnet – Italian Structure )

The editor demands my very best
with ocean’s depth and pictures for one’s mind.
Let waterfalls of syllables combine
while melodies of sounds they manifest.

Just that and nothing less is all that’s asked.
The pen is poised and pauses while I think –
perhaps I scratch my beard and sip a drink,
before returning, determined, to my task.

Oh, hell! How often does one sit to write
a piece of crap to merely fill a page?
Real poets don’t do that in any age.

We never set out trying to be trite.
Our very best attempt are made in vain
When mind’s creative cogs get clogged again.

© Lawrencealot – December 5th, 2012
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