“Spotless No Doubt”
Spotless no doubt, devotions practiced, polished
As marauding tensions; emotions’ nomads yet nothing moves–
There is no breeze, no gracious moon, no secret meeting in the groves
Of this smothered cradle song, this child’s adagio. Usefulness abolished,
Then, the memory is detained in the waiting room in peculiar movement
While destiny and fate consult on who’s left to flounder in the atrium. These
Foolish thoughts of weightlessness and spiritual sclerosis augur well to please
The wallpaper and the clock left crucified upon the wall. Mindless atonement
Rules through a lack of fact and no hint of propinquity as naturally
The caterers and guests will soon arrive and someone has to answer the door.
Climax and dénouement fall flat upon the floor.
No need to move within a seminal apostrophe: O the will has atrophied,
We’re there! Then, of course, we must return or break the deadlock
So let’s get on with what the fox intends and who will mind the flock.
Posted in 'Blue whale, Circumspection, Hyenas, Imagery, Imagism, Leviathans, Lions, Lyric Poetry, Perception, Poem, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets, Whales
Tagged Double Sonnet, Existence, Imagery, Imagism, Immortality, Instinct, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Poem, poetry, Relationships, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets, Strife, Tragic Flaw
“Comes a Lion’s Sacrifice”
Comes a lion’s sacrifice, his eyes
Now fixed, the gaze, the ageing body’s shadow taut
Upon the juggernaught, a rolling form, yesterday’s intention caught
In matted threads of crimson sweat in beads lean against the thighs’
Redeeming, screaming declamation, all or nothing broadcast
Erect in silent swollen majesty, volition in the brow abolished;
An emotion’s glow, the goal of fear astonished, patina polished,
The hemlock drained in haste as thoughtless
Epimetheus breathes in and out with such a blast
As casts its lots in nothing less than seconds
that renders even natural disease the kinder. One now last
But never least in lines of endless consequence in unnatural rhyme
Between the cat and prey with justice at the feast designed
To kill or not to kill and thence to take one’s fill or fast.
And so it is with consummations great and small,
The climax of potential in the meaning of it all.