Girls of Concordia
“Girls of Concordia”
Sonnet 176
4/5/01
Well, I must away. Dawn draws nigh and this celestial dream
Of angelic visions must take its rest
In the daily burdens that cloud my mind’s searching gleam.
Until once again as the night’s silent mist
Awakens the sleeping wings of those aerial maidens,
And they wing their flight o’re dragon and fire
To caress my hidden senses with their sweetest kisses–
In the memory I cherish every night time hour.
The day I left my home for glory and the town
Was the day I found those faeries with the lacey eyes,
Who in their smiles I drowned
And found the perfect way to die.
Cynic Photographs
“Cynic Photographs”
Sonnet 174
3/11/01
Old places burn the negatives clear
Off the paper clips in my mind.
Places held dear
Smell of haunting, vivid times.
Faces lost in a myriad of crowds
Stand striking and the same.
Despite my tested doubts
Some things never and forever change.
People remember names clued by eyes
But I deny they care
Like I often try,
But maybe there could be more there
Than I choose to acknowledge.
Despite the cynicism, the photographs have power.
Notice
“Notice”
Sonnet 173
3/6/01
Take time to notice.
Notice the little things that weave
Our personalities with our motives
And lose yourself in the scene.
The history of why
We are, and came from where
Will with no words describe
The life that we have shared.
Take time to love it;
Love what makes us we.
The greatest flatterers trick
Is to imitate what makes me me.
And in this simple gesture
They’ve noticed my nature.
Come Back
“Come Back”
Sonnet 170
1/31/01
What would I do if you came back?
Would the moon glow brighter in the night,
Would the clouds flow like the black
Hair that surrounds your eyes?
Would I want to feel your hand–
The hand that stabbed my trust
And hung my failures out to fan
My origami lust?
Would I run to you or stationary stare?
If you came back . . . would you?
Am I traipsing near the lair
Of a hidden lion’s tooth?
I’m not too sure what I would do
If you came back. Would you?
A Book
“A Book”
Sonnet 169
1/16/01
Leather, stitched and bound with a careful hand.
Time and effort placed in creating a simple plan
To show affection for her face.
Maybe she will see the stitches
Which create a poem only read by witches.
Or a heart which understands the lonely.
Maybe she can feel the warmth Imbued into this book.
Maybe I will still for just a second look.
Forlorn one can only hope that she will read the message.
Yet one may never know if she received the impression.
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I have only one thing to say to this. Doing sweet little things for a crush is a great idea . . . but you cannot rely on little hints and gestures to communicate the way you feel. You’ve got to tell them. Period.
