Snowflakes take directions from the trees
Specific paths between the fallen leaves
Flights to perfection settle the matter
On layered mountains, on top of that
Counting uncountable numbers as one
Ice has a way of melting humble hearts
God adds pure souls to His collection
Forces calculable by all measures old
Log cabins keep quiet in the gathering storm
Add warmth, a spark of conversation light
By the fireplace where they belong
Snowflakes find their way to crystal
Sometimes the path up comes down
Between the evergreens dreams float
Carried off to paradise like tiny ghost
One by one and counting
Love is not
man’s first impulse,
but what is left
when the world fails
and nothing better
than
to imagine…
the creator
in us all,
were I fearless
I would nurture
such possibility-
to cancel armies
and philosophies
replacing science
with driving spirit
too often thought
in the abstract
though internals
an on-going
self vs self
faith outside the church
seems hopelessly flawed
as love that is calculable
predictable
cannot not float for long
that which the proposed
soul craves,
a body sustained aloft
outside and above
its literature
the best of humanity
not what it can see and touch
but what it can dream
life transcending
our mortal sleep….
As annoying as a red pimple
That pricks so much as a needle
That makes people to meddle
Just to make the peace habitable
Then after the war is indefinable
The issues are put on the table
This proves the parties only gaggle
And for connection they need a cable
For peace promotion he breaks a bubble
At the table there is a snack of an apple
Though the parties are fragile
They should have had a principle
He pretends to be humble
Just so they could make him reliable
Because to promote peace he is able
By serving wisdom with a ladle
For peace promotion you don’t need a fable
Just so you can know what is abominable
Some things are so calculable
Don’t wait for someone to cajole
LOVE FOR THREE WOMEN
In bays and headlands of my dreams I hear her sweet laughter:
She strolls along the beach in morningtimes at low tide bright.
O, like an unworn dress for a feast unknown hereafter,
My daughter and my better, guide and guard her out of sight.
Similar but different. Passionate. Lover and friend.
My wife’s yesterday-tastes are mine - lovebird pigeons homing,
Looking in one direction, the calculable next bend,
Bound together through yellow woods in the evening gloaming.
Grey haired, she lives forever younger in my memory.
With music, learning, poetry she set my mind ablaze:
From high Parnassus, future seeds fed by roots of hist’ry.
Mirrored in my soul, mother’s eyes return my searching gaze.
These three beloved women through my heart and spirit roam:
May love for them give strength and comfort on their journey home.
.........................................................................................................
Written by Sydney Peck, 12 June 2011 for
Francine Roberts' Contest "Sonnets, Sonnets, everywhere!"
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.