#21

within my brain a parliament convenes
of divas sailors toddlers politicians
porcupines and alice's red queen
debating with more gusto than decision

amid such chaos how can I maintain
coherent thought for half a moment's time
let alone imagine I might strain
some subtle truth into a verse sublime

what power could force the rabble to forget
their brawl that sweet erato can hold sway
ripest promises and direst threats
will sometimes serve to keep the pack at bay

which observation goes some way to prove
why poets seldom stray from death and love




The Red Queen I was imagining was the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland rather than the Red Queen from Through the Looking Glass, though either one can do the job.

Erato, of course, is my (lately parsimonious) patroness.

Thanks to Melissa Anne for inspiring this one.

For Sarah

(As promised previously, here is my first ever sonnet, written in 2000 for the going-away party of a friend who was leaving to spend a year at the South Pole.)


to give advice is often to offend
I would not try polonius' fate
lest sword in hand you long to perforate
yet still I must give voice to warn my friend

when you step out to view the austral flares
forbear to venture farther than your porch
and cradle in your arms a trusty torch
lest chilling breezes freeze your nostril hairs

if restless dreams and yearnings of the heart
propel you forth to dance upon the snow
but don your woolly pants before you go
or suffer frostbite of the tender parts

I offer up to you this humble poem
to keep and guide you 'til you come back hoem


(There he is, the infant sonneteer. Seeds of greatness? You decide. "Austral flares/nostril hairs" seems pretty seedy.)

#19 and #20

an office left so glaringly unfilled
might tempt someone to think you were remiss
but as a gracious gesture of goodwill
I can forgive your overlooking this

unselfishly I urge that you digest
this letter and appended resume
you then will see that your best interests
are served by hiring me without delay

my references are glowing as though hot
for I would not write any other sort
the compensation I require will not
seem high beside the pricelessness of art

in sum I am completely without peer
to serve as your consulting sonneteer


Curriculum Vitae

I trade upon my talent for invention
employing seasoned skills in fabrication
and though I've held too many jobs to mention
what follows is a brief elaboration

I made my reputation washing hogs
and built a business processing baloney
embroidered yarns I'd spun from shaggy dogs
and pioneered long distance telephoney

in schools of thought I took my education
so lofty that my feet were seldom grounded
upon no rock beyond imagination
was all my abstruse erudition founded

so fertilized by vast experience
my poems epitomize grandiloquence




(I'm still out of work, which is lovely in many ways. One of the things I have time for is trying to figure out what to be when I grow up. Any suggestions will be welcomed gratefully.)

(One of the reasons I haven't been producing sonnets lately is that I start fretting about finding a job as soon as I sit down to write. This takes all the fun out of being unemployed. Here I have found a way to turn that fretting around and use it to fuel a couple of sonnets.)

(I've revised the subtitle of this blog to reflect the reality of the situation. I still intend to write all 50. This gives the muse more time to find bricks to throw at my head.)

#18 -- from Shakespeare's mistress in response to sonnet 130

you dwell so long on things that I am not
I doubt if you have truly seen my face
or if you did you long ago forgot
while inking rhyming figures in my place

I think the sun is rather like my eyes
with jaundice yellow and with fever bright
such are the orbs that you would idolize
crab-fashion with a captious backhand slight

O pot that blacks the kettle how your breath
is falsely sweetened by your honeyed speech
although such artifice may please you best
for my part I'd prefer an honest reek

if love would find true concord with my will
he'll have to watch out where he points his quill



(I've included the text of Shakespeare's sonnet 130 at the end of this post, or you can view it here in facsimile from the 1609 quarto.)

(Sonnets 127 through 152 are all thought to be addressed to Shakespeare's mistress, sometimes referred to as the "dark lady." The identity of the dark lady remains a mystery, despite centuries of wild guesswork on the part of eminent scholars.)

(The double meaning of "will" in the final couplet is a nod to sonnets 135 and 136. Sonnet 135 seems to consist almost entirely of flourishes, to the near exclusion of content -- a style of poetry to which this author can well relate.)

(Yes, your faithful sonneteer is back in the saddle [twaddle?] for the time being. I am between jobs, and have finally realized the need to search for gainful employment. For some time this base consideration has interfered with my sonnetizing, and may continue to slow me down. If you know of any positions available in the doggerel industry, please let me know. I have composed some excellent references for myself.)



130
(from Shake-speare's Sonnets, 1609)

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

#17

o join with me on windy instruments
all trumpeting with grave sonority
to praise of legumes let us now give vent
the sacred nourishment of euterpe
and source of vast potential energy
for as this sweet ambrosia we consume
we build within ourselves capacity
for tootling like thunderous bassoons
though with each tempest zephyr and simoom
much more than simple pressure is relieved
with every silent sigh and rumbling boom
a mellow satisfaction is achieved

at every meal we send aloft this paean
on clouds of glory as we eat our beans



(Those of you who do not recognize the source material for this sonnet may find it here.)

(Here is a little more about Euterpe, the Greek muse of music and inventor of the double flute.)

#16

the snake was cursed to crawl and swallow dust
when god found out its role as eve's deceiver
before the fall the serpent's lifestyle must
have been more pleasant and its diet sweeter

some think it floated on a purple cloud
propelled by little lilac scented toots
it wafted softly 'twixt the leafy boughs
and sampled all the fresh and fragrant fruits

others say the savage serpent gripped
its tail between its teeth and rolled about
emitting flames and heavy metal riffs
consuming lighting bolts and peeling out

we'll have to figure this one out ourselves
old moses might have known but didn't tell


(Here is a link to chapter 3 of the Book of Genesis -- also known as the First Book of Moses, who is understood to have written some or all of it. The diet and locomotion of the serpent is not specified prior to God's curse in verse 3:14. Far be it from me to leave well enough alone.)

(A snake with its tail in its mouth generally suggests the Ouroboros, an ancient symbol of the cyclical and infinite nature of something or other. The snake described in the third stanza of this sonnet is more like the legendary hoop snake, which holds its tail in its mouth so it can wheel about in pursuit of prey.)

#15, for Mike

if you refuse to wash your underpants
it stands to reason that one day you'll find
them host to sundry animals and plants
that do not leave much room for your behind

a proud and prickly hedge of holly bushes
might well take root and grow between your legs
therein may nest a pair of varied thrushes
with you to help them incubate their eggs

an ox may occupy your bvds
along with badgers bears and mountain sheep
the bleats and barks of this menagerie
will make it hard for you to fall asleep

as one who's trod this garden path before
I recommend that you shampoo your drawers


(Happy Birthday, bro)