Category Archives: sonnet

Or is it dark as coal and black as death?

Is this tunnel like a birth canal Where one   must struggle, find a pathway new. Or is it dark as coal and black as death How to tell and how to wisely choose. There must be instincts guiding us  inside … Continue reading

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Compelled by Turner’s hand

The arts are a  real danger to my bones Picasso drawings make my legs  give way No, my dear,I  never  went when stoned But only when  the Turner seas would sway Deal to Dover, we walked  on white cliffs Wildflowers … Continue reading

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The accident

By accident I broke my sister’s doll It’s head hit  wood, the arm of my brown chair With a sorrow desperate I was  filled I wept onto the doll’s distasteful hair So my route was set,I could not play I … Continue reading

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For we have different eyes and different seeings

I have seen so now I cannot doubt But what I saw, I do not know its name The laws of  common sense it likely flouts Yet  it brings   ripe comfort to  the lone A felt experience without any words … Continue reading

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To glue

You say you love yet  mail  me such harsh  words You say you care yet shoot me down to  die As if you are a despot always heard While in black silence. I in pain must lie. You say  you … Continue reading

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Estimate my worth

How like a prison is a cubicle Where office workers type out bills and forms How I prefer to mend my bicycle Or lie with a sweet man among  ripe corn Oh, why did we not stay as chimpanzees With … Continue reading

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In its cracks defiant flowers grow

Across the road  I see a  Tudor wall In its cracks defiant flowers grow The modern traffic sounds out a loud wail From the East a freezing wind still blows In between the natural world and man The space  provides … Continue reading

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Lit by raging  fires  on holy lands

Gravity    pulls us to this earth of ours Where grace is needed  for the heart to flower The need for roots is what each person feels Yet how can roots grow through a floor of steel? Settlement in legal … Continue reading

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Now nothing is what anyone can say. 

Postmodernism’s the fashion ne’er manque. We must study Foucault and his scribes. Get reason trapped and do not court delay. You need to find your intellectual tribe. Where is the goose which laid the golden egg.. Invented meta-talk and fairy … Continue reading

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As spiders spin

A needle, pen or life itself  have points To sew, to write, to beautify or haunt. Our hands and minds, creative in intent Give our lives their  point, their way. their bent. The long hands of the clock  to numbers … Continue reading

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