199 – Dear Sonnet

Poem number 199
Dear Sonnet
Your beauty is iambic, dear Sonnet
Syllabic pairs with ev’ry second stressed.
For love, no other form could upon it
Bear such a weight of meaning so expressed.
And those romantics of poetic bent
With heads bowed and swanfeather quill afire
Choose none other to smoulder their intent
Through four quatrains of such heartfelt desire.
And when, at last, their allotted twelve lines
Of alternating rhyme have been inscribed
The lover has one more sweet gift that shines
With love. A final couplet then imbibed.
Fourteen lines that show us your beauty, aye
Dear Sonnet, lens to every poet’s eye.


416 – The Reaper

Poem number 416


The Reaper


I sleep, fragile, whilst you sit in a chair

Waiting. Content. Your right foot taps the beat

Of some half remembered tune and you care

Not a jot for what’s to come. My defeat

Is nothing, for what is one among scores

When each one looks the same. Another day

Another dollar. A million doors

Slammed shut. You hum whilst my life slips away,

Rub your thumb along the edge of your scythe

And think of your dinner. You have no heart

No soul to ache. But I, once young and lithe

Now fade to dust whilst my soul falls apart.

.  I will ache enough for both of us, Death

.  So swing your scythe. I will take my last breath.

424 – Sonnet 424

Poem 424


Sonnet 424


Our love is as a slice of steaming pie

Triangular and full of hot rabbit,

The gravy of thy soul flow’d past mine eye

Oh how fortunate was I to grab it

How easy ‘twould have been for other men

To have supp’d upon your sweet season’d sauce,

To have impress’d you with their spoon and then

Forlorn, my life set out on alter’d course

Oh mercy then, dear heaven’s fair remark

That I should be the one to chew your crust

That we two in ceramic bowl embark’d

Together from hot pie to pastry dust

.       Thou art sublime in meat, and carrot chew’d

.       The oven baked pie and our love ensued.