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Crown Of Sonnets
Poem
Touch Of Skin
The sun caresses my skin on this hot summers day.
It would be wonderful for a slight rain to splash on my
skin in such a way.
I should love it if a cool breeze came floating by.
Time seems to be going by slowly these days.
I hear the words whispered from his lips.
"Don't go all shy on me now".
As his fingertips caress the length of my spine.
We lay naked on the top of the summer meadow.
A kiss on the lips, a kiss on the hips.
I seen the cranes fly, as I moved to his touch.
They flew from the edge of the pond, below us.
As we were spread out on the large quilt.
High on the peak, I with my book of prose.
Him, with his glistening body dripping beads of sweat.
I've come to these's highlands since I could remember.
This place was a staple of my childhood, in fact , this
mountain hilltop belonged to my grandparents.
His words rolled on the slight movement in the air.
" Be still", "it was our little game we played".
As he traced the nap of my neck with his tongue
And found his way to my lips, our tongues entwined
like ivy on the forest walls.
We had been friends since the age of twelve.
That's when his parents bought the adjoining land.
You taste like sweet mountain honey, " all mine".
He knew his touch inflamed my senses, as finger
tips caressed his muscles, as nails pierced his skin.
He knew he drove me crazy, as I drifted into bliss.
Though still fully aware of his every touch, every
rhythm of our heartbeats kept tempo with our inferno lust.
His every touch reminded me why I kept coming back for
the summer vacations, besides my grandparents being old.
In fact this would be the last two days of summer pleasure.
I wouldn't want to lose my editing job, back in the city.
I felt his eager body quiver as we moved together in time.
As he pressed his hips against mine, it was all I could do.
Lovely woman, you are my summers favorite delight !!!
Jan. 7, 2013 monday 10pm
I haven't written one like this in about five years.
Thought I'd give it a try .
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Crown Of Sonnets
Poem
Best Friends and Lovers
Best Friends and Lovers!
In my mind were best friends and lovers. Sharing every fantasy lying here wrapped in your arms feeling loved and cared for. Love and lust mingling as we soar close to heaven. Our hearts beat as one when you hold me so close. Romance fills my thoughts as I escape to my fantasy once again to be with you, desperate to fill a void. Safe and secure beside you every craving stirs to life sensing your love, wanting you to fill all my needs and desires!
Best friends share everything while lovers live out everything bringing the two soaring next to heaven's door. Talking to me even while turning me on all night yet never tiring of loving me. I cuddle into you and hold onto your chest till I fall asleep from this beautiful fantasy; I know you are only a thought away and I will return to love you and be loved by you, my best friend and lover!
Debbie Knapp
06/03/2013
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Crown Of Sonnets
Poem
Jesus Call His Name
When in doubt
Call his name
When in pain
He will take it away
Call his name
When you say a Prayer
If your sad and blue
He is there for you
If you want a hug
He will embrace you
If you want to talk
He will listen
Call his name
If you want answers
If you have doubts
He is the one
Call his name
If you want someone to love
Sing to him
Give him praise
Lend a ear
Give a hand
Help those in need
Call his name
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Crown Of Sonnets
Poem
SYLVIA, FOR CRAIG CORNISH, FOR ALL PLATH FANS
It is a terrible thing
To be so open: it is as if my heart
Put on a face and walked into the world.
Sylvia Plath, Three Women, 1962
_________________________________
SYLVIA
Sylvia, ever lucent, ever opaque,
an incongruity, a clever imbalance
that spins collections her hounds facilitate.
Failures and fractures she bravely lanced
with noncompliance. Reader, rebuff collars
labeled as forewords, smug introductions,
for Plath’s voice is tenfold more a scholar
than those receiving undue benedictions.
Lofty beggars seek to bookend her words
and that empty space she instinctively refills
with her universe, a mayhem that girds,
unapologetic. Mirror images spill
over margins, searching for identity,
negating preamble, snubbing apathy.
Negating preamble, snubbing apathy
with language that flickers, catches, combusts,
her volumes of wicks, her lit soliloquies,
glint behind the stained-glass of trust.
There are those who are not really here,
they wander fault lines then crisscross chasms,
lost pilgrims who easily commandeer
unwary emotions. Some hearts just spasm,
pulled by their own nature, their delicacy,
for poetry is a weakness; poets die
between verses. Odes can become elegies.
The thin-skinned hear a snared rabbit cry,
and pray for the moonflower, always closing,
while cursing that page, unmoved and dozing.
While cursing that page, unmoved and dozing,
she corners rigid guides, keeps fingers poised,
synchronicity goes, the flow of typing
disappears, mislaid, that perfect noise
of a carriage return, a sound exclamation.
Joy is inspiration making its way home,
her Olivetti forages like a raven,
gifting found nouns, verbs that glare like chrome,
but love still flits, turns from hoarse requests,
and she longs for more than any man can give
for what snags worn ribbons will not rest,
it emits a strong beat, throbs as it loves.
Bless the bitter of life, all wisdom owing,
curse the open heart, its shadows showing.
Curse the open heart, its shadows showing,
for worldly delights take full advantage
of the wounded, their brokenness growing.
Everyday beauty wrings arteries, dredges
chambers with barbs, a prompt disobedient.
Fact, there’s no folder large enough to hold
elation’s girth, no ink conveniently
on hand to black out depression. So, scold
the yew, its roots and branches reaching,
then poke at petals for being complacent,
when all the while a candle is preaching
of give and take, surrender, luminance,
So, carefully archive apprehension,
revealing blue veins to tender lesions.
Revealing blue veins to tender lesions
requires much more than a room of one's own,
hours do dissolve, days lack cohesion
when milk sours and tantrums are thrown.
Solitude is in short supply, loneliness,
however, is overstocked; her mind tugs
at busy hands for attention, such darkness
contrasts to jammy smiles and sleepy hugs.
Elusive titles whimper each morning,
and short stanzas steep, so desperately,
all the while a manuscript is scorning
her swipes at dry crumbs, cold pots of tea.
A life sheds its months, gallows take delight
as sundials atrophy in the arms of night.
As sundials atrophy in the arms of night.
the moon blanches tidepools, suckles sand,
even the face of the clock is pulled too tight
and the new calendar can not understand
that writing is sex, is fresh bread, is air,
that time is a brute, quick fisted, rough,
that weeks come and go without a care
that a marriage vow is never enough
to mend adoration, repossess bliss.
Words make better lovers, rarely stray,
upon her lips, the impression of a kiss
feels as cold as sheets then melts away.
Paper sops afterbirth, accepts her all:
fossil and seed, shackles and free falls.
Fossil and seed, shackles and free falls,
unlocking visions, defying any cage,
art resists validity, upsets stone walls
to scale the scarlet heights of a rampage,
to breach the barricades to euphoria.
She excavates id, bares teeth at ego,
plays the parts of illusion and phobia
then infuses rhyme with soft indigo.
Colossus begins to shrivel as Ariel
unmans him, riding hard upon metaphors,
and will remain strong, constant, ethereal.
but curtailed are epics that still implore
like the cusp of dream long after you wake
Sylvia, ever lucent, ever opaque.
* For Craig Cornish, whose contest inspired this piece. Thank you, Daddy-O.
About this poem
This is my first crown of sonnets. It took over 25 hours to write, a full week of me-time!
These are modern sonnets and the syllable count is extremely loose, intentionally, as it would seem odd to keep things too tight when writing of Sylvia. If anything, I regret not being even looser, altering syllable counts DRAMATICALLY. Also, I used a great deal of slant rhyme for the same reason.
I really wanted to capture Sylvia Plath with this poem, and it was a real struggle. Her language is so precise, and I wanted to do her justice. I had wanted to feel, upon its completion, that Sylvia would have said, "Well, it isn't quite horrible. Not bad for a novice. And there are parts of me there, but only the smallest bits." I do not feel I did this. I feel like I didn't even TOUCH her mastery of language. But, it is good enough for now.. one day, who knows?
Oh, Sylvia's typewriter was a Olivetti Lettera 22. It was portable!
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Crown Of Sonnets
Poem
Missing Pieces
Once there was a time.
A long time ago.
As I was looking for a flat.
Making sure it was right for me.
Just so I could make it my own.
I took a walk through all the cracks
and cervices.
Way over there, in an out of the way corner .
That's when I seen it, the writing on the wall.
The closer I came, the more I saw a love spell.
Although It was wearing thin from years past.
This is how it read:
She ask, if she could get back all the missing
pieces ~ all the pieces she had given away ,
To lovers that didn't stay.
All the parts that had been broken, and betrayed.
All the parts that were left out in the rain.
All the parts that were dropped and kicked around.
It said, she didn't think they wanted them anyway.
All the parts of herself , she felt she lost along the way.
She ask for all the missing pieces to be returned to her.
If that was ok ~ Just so she wouldn't fade away.
7/ 9 / 2011 8pm
Was looking through a 3 ring binder of my old poetry, I found this one . No doubt we all have pages of poems.
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Crown Of Sonnets
Poem
From Him
Heartbroken
I guess I was wrong.
I'm a total fool.
My love for you was so strong.
How could I have ever loved you?
You said he was no one.
You had no idea who he is.
Well it's obvious he's someone.
With him, I knew what you did.
I gave you all my love.
You'll never know how much I cared.
My life just fell apart.
This pain I just can't bare.
I've been through this before.
Though it hadn't been with you.
I never thought you'd do this..
I always thought you would be true.
Now I must live my life without you.
Together we'll never be..
For you've found someone new.
And no longer need me.
12 10 1997 From " his " point of view .
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Crown Of Sonnets
Poem
FAMILY
Family seeds planted generations that have passed to present the greatest investments; The lives that has given us so much to grow on and on
The bond between two generations that will last forever and ever
The planted seeds live on in all of us stronger and wiser
May god continue to play a big part of us believing in him with our full trust.
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Crown Of Sonnets
Poem
Roses
I walk in the garden
To see the roses
While the dew is on the grass
So pretty to see
A place to be
Where sun shines through
A blossom so sweet
It opens up like a woman
The rose is strong
When the wind blows
While the rain falls
The storm blows
A rose is beautiful
With the grace of a swan
Long stem and thorns
It will rip you
Give's you joy
Lot's of pleasure
A big delight
The rose
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Crown Of Sonnets
Poem
Love or lust
Love the principal thing but scarce
True meaning of love vanish into thin air
Just like vapor.
Many lust and think they love
See many youth with lustful desire
Soon it will wear and tire them out
A matter of time it is
You hear different word from their
Sugar coated mouth like
“Am falling in love with you”
Why can’t they just walk?
Tired of hearing break ups here and there
Reddish colors of the eye disgust me!
All I want is something genuine and real
Not fake, but something that you can feel.
Not something ashamed of
But something you are proud of
With smiling face I want to see people
Holding hands in agreement
Without any dispute
So I can have a rest of mind
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Crown Of Sonnets
Poem
I Know I Messed Up
Im sorry girl but I know I ****ed up,
I know I can at times get so drunked up,
But truth is girl we got to go our own way and suck it up,
I love you still in my heart but we must part because its finished girl from the very start.
Love aint easy and that *****can get too hard but we must play a new hand dealt cards
You deserve better than me Melinda because I might just drag us both down to the dirt ground left in the dark with silence no sound from both mine to your town........Im sorry Melinda Rose
but love dies when it ceases to no longer grow
you see me less and less until the forever show
My love for someone different now is a choice I choose
I will miss your sweet red hair all the way to your nubby little toes
but remember Melinda Rose
our love can only die when it CEASES TO GROW .........
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