sat one night
back in the fifties...
on a window sill
and watched...
hurricane hazel
snap a large tree...
across the road
in the morning...
we walked about
a hundred yards...
on the sidewalk
torn by uprooted...
trees and washed
out by heavy rains...
an unforgot-ton of
3d memory ease...
stan sand
SONNET PATHETIQUE
So sad Peter Ilyich; such anguished strife!
What is the tragic loss for which you grieve
An unforgot dark chapter in your life
So you must wear your heart upon your sleeve
That noble face that should exult your art
Betrays a tortured soul unversed with joy
In music, minor key takes greater part
D’you fear that signs of happiness would cloy
Yet oft, light breaks the gloom of dark dimension
Penumbra, pierced by ray of bliss, dispersed
And we discern the soul of your invention
Who bless the days you o’er this world traversed
That in our hearts it should have given gladness
For such sublime, exquisite, beauteous sadness
My distraught, the thought, has lost a battle unforgot.
I take, I give, the very words I live.
I've done, The sun, outrunning the only one.
My actions are not my own, a story, I've stitched, I've sewn.
I wait, I learn, my destiny turning to fate, I cannot see in my current state.
The pain is neigh, a calder or a bite, my fatigue outweighs my might.
Crowned, sound, the darkness reaks no havok. And atop I take the stand.
Demand, reprimand, the status of your rendzevous.
The story's conclusion, I cannot seem...
to find the tragic end to...