Sonnets 33-36
Sonnet 33
Who would want to live forever?
To survive for many a century,
Seeking a non-existent lever,
In an eternal penitentiary?
Isn't life insufferable enough,
For an average human life span,
A life savage, brutal, each day tough,
Just one more passing without a plan.
I'd rather it end sooner, an end plain,
And be tempted by death’s whispered call,
Rather than spend eternity in life’s freight train,
Hurtling towards nothing (a useless trawl).
So I'd refuse a cure for the pest of life,
Making death my everlasting wife.
© menshallknownothingofthis.co.uk 26.06.2009
sonnet 34
Enslaved by an invisible ghost,
A devil most lascivious,
Taunting me as a possible host,
She whispers taunts most malicious.
I slowly adjust my pupils to focus,
To see the outline of a shapely lass,
But before I can shout and make a fuss,
She disappears, a weightless mass.
But now she's engrained on eyelid's reverse,
A blinding shape that I can't suppress,
Nightly hours now awakened by her curse,
And in my mind that figure I undress.
I wish daily for her revelation,
But receive only subjugation.
© menshallknownothingofthis.co.uk 26.06.2009
sonnet 35
Passion's throe engages the limbs,
An urge so frantic I'm shocked and awed,
I'm eager to hear her loud, dulcet hymns,
To be at once satisfied and in turn adored.
But pace myself, and repress haste,
Must I do to keep those melodies
High and mighty, not let them waste,
And turn heaven into the depths of Hades.
Rhythm found and mutually enjoyed,
Is heaven captured and returned to earth.
When both are enraptured within that void,
It lights a brighter fire than any hearth.
But before her ecstasy reaches my heights,
My conclusion increases her sensual plights.
© menshallknownothingofthis.co.uk 26.06.2009
sonnet 36
I speak nothing when it comes to advance,
To pounce upon my latest prey:
This dumbness plays on my throat a dance,
A ballet of silence defaults my say.
So I glide past the lass with a view to flank,
Feint one way while she walks the other,
But this proves worse than walking the plank,
So I delay again, a moment lost in smother.
My larynx expels the latest Swan’s Lake,
In preparation for a return to the conquest,
But silence conquers, like a funeral’s wake,
And my heart waltzes in my caving chest.
One more day lost in this clouded operation,
I look forward to tomorrow’s defamation.
© menshallknownothingofthis.co.uk 26.06.2009
