Sonnet #23

Sand grains cling in mysterious patterns
On thin canvassed thighs, whose symbols portray
Reflecting, hidden meanings which betray
My most amorous thoughts. Firm hip that turns
Toward the sea flinging motifs away
To dance on foamy shores for brief moments
Before sinking. Although the sea torments
Poetic vision as the end of day
Darkens memory of lyric themes, hints
At annihilation. This poet knows
the cruel eraser of time will dispose
of chattering voices. No permanence
Assured. I rearrange grainy verse lines
Over which an eternal bright sun shines.

Sonnet #22

Rail thin compass limbs cross unwillingly
Triangulating perception toward
Tender narrow spaces. Ample mounds part
In shadowed depth, teetering anxiously
High above cobbled streets. Rock hard fairly
Rises in monolithic support. Shard
Of apathy stabs into softened heart
Bearing brunt of heavy metal, slowly
Sinking. Can such magnetism repulse
Wrought iron rods inserting their hooded
Convert? Repelling thrusts have no recourse
But to stand in relief, bearing the false
Matter that doesn’t matter, not rooted
In soil, but clear skies. Seeds find no purchase.

Sonnet #21

Although your beauty remains unquestioned
I ask what benefit the herd redeems
By viewing your lofty legs reclined
In brazen relief for all? Naked beams
Of light filter across your silken sheets
Focusing the smooth undulations of
your treasured silhouette. What heroic feats
may I attempt to win your proud heart’s love?
No scaled monsters exist to prove one’s might.
Only crusades in far swarthy deserts
Provide opportunities for fights
Sev'ring nappy heads on platters. Efforts
of this manner may reach your dimensions.
But will bring only dishonoring conditions.

Sonnet #20

Shakespeare wrote sonnets to a lady dark
Taunting his love and coldly refusing
His eloquent longing. Still, I’ll embark
On a congruent task of enthusing
Over ice queens parading above me
As I struggle in heated battle with
Twining lines of convulsing snakes busy
Escaping being pinned to paper myths.
Revering women is a poet’s job
Not fit for muscle. I employ matter
Gray with long nights far from teeming mobs
Marching off cliffs. Cattle go to slaughter
Ignorantly, but I’ll meet impending
Annihilation, perfection chasing.

Sonnet #19

Once pruned plants shaded God’s sculptured garden,
Burbling water flowed through a channel
Sang simple songs in my earthly Eden.
Then came blasting bombs of the infidel
Shredding walls, raining bricks. My poor village
Sliced and diced, hewn by loud shrieking shrapnel
Which disregards collateral damage
For noble causes: pious, mighty claims
Of peaceful harmony, a dawning age
Ushered in. Standing before my door of shame
I’m centered by a camera lens driven
To subvert order with a balanced frame.
Gods of chaos make no hell or heaven.
What is possible we must imagine.

Sonnet #18

Vibrant traffic snakes past my stolid stance
Unaware of perfection’s clear model
Looming above this churning modern dance.
How you remain aloof to the muddle
Of ignorance slopping against pillars
Sustaining your pedestal befuddles
My intellect. Your calm evokes shriller
Sirens to increase their righteous efforts
At orderly propulsion similar
To frightened calls to stampede to resorts
Of false serenity, breaching the ledge
Feigning as restraint, driving the cohorts
Into turbulent seas. I will not dredge
the fathomless for altitude’s knowledge.

Sonnet #17

Bleached-white feathered tiara, never browned
By murky mundane dishwater blonde hair,
Rides downed long neck and ballerina
Encompassing wide-spread legs, lightly bounds
Across the sky. Stale waters linger around
Monolithic piers, wrestling livid lines
Of traffic, toiling toward their despair
Tire of hectic, meandering, ticking sounds.
I, too, intend to rise above this mire,
Embrace my fate: ready, willing and trained.
I await only your blessing on this quest,
Which I see will be denied me. The dire
Circumstances here below have profaned
Your perfection. I am what you detest.

Sonnet #16

Overstuffed couch pinioned above buildings
Floats your delicate hips and wind-raised hair
Billowing in crisp silk. So unaware,
Below your belying marble throne, rings
Seething anguished crawlers, viscous moiling
Constricted and twined on a thoroughfare
Flaked and oily, hissing sounds of warfare
Fought over you. Diamond-coiled marshalling
Slither toward plains of conflict. Be-knight
Me to slay the fuming, treasure-hoarding
Dragon at your podium’s base. St. George
Skewering scaled creatures for your delight!
Your divine profile frozen, affording
No impetus for my protective urge.

Sonnet #15

Swelling traffic searches channeling route
Weaving manic dissonance at your feet.
Boisterous action rolls and squirms indiscreet
Tangles past the solid forms flattened out
To bear your immobile shrine. Without doubt
Your presence stills surroundings in complete
Disarray. Calming frozen tone replete
With confident poise, eyes the frantic bout
Fought below for your pleasure. This battle
Among forces carelessly strewn around
To flare and hiss in spiteful, antic sound
Must elicit enjoyment. The cattle
Gathered in the corralled herd have been shocked
Into stampede. Yet you stay coolly locked.

Sonnet #14

Doll-like you recline limply, passively
Filling the draped patterns of fashion
With supple limbs, little girl ripples on
A lax tummy. On a shelf captively
Placed, someone’s possession absently
Waiting for attention. Yet your prison
Eyes smolder. Tight tangible inaction
Pouring tensile emission pointedly
Toward my breast. I stop disbelieving
The promise pinched and narrow. I succumb
To steely beams piercing my heart made numb
On cold metal offer. By complying
I take the impaling weapon to heart
And wield it as a knight to beauty’s art.

Sonnet #13

Nature becomes your willing backdrop of
Lush leaves, splashing water, clear azure skies
Composing your comfort, cushioning thighs
And shoulder from pressures. You float above
Her pleasantries: light, white disdaining dove.
Existence lives to please you. She complies
With outrageous demands. Self-assured eyes
Negate competing forms. Yours alone shove
The rest aside. Fastidious, effortless
Purity is your gift to the world. Strained
Longings of your admirers can’t embrace
Your delicacy or fertile finesse.
Earth’s bodacious womb has never contained
Seeds of you. She thrills to be your showcase.

Sonnet #12

Lovely locks of golden light float across
Urban horizons steaming furiously
Toward western success. I’m sure my boss
Tailor-suited to his business, anxiously
Taps his foot. I hear only your song gloss
Over my tight-gripped automobile, piously
Placating delirious disciples of cross-
Traffic as they fit into slots and lane,
Then part your lips gently more sneer
Than smile. Head tossed back searches the mundane
For what you know cannot exist, angel,
Among the teeming masses who profane
Your luxuriousness with their cheap chattel
I arise goddess to fight your battle.

Sonnet #11

Standing above gushing traffic, black negligee
Caresses your shadowed frame. Glistening
Sun bristles, roughly circumscribing
An aura behind modern apogee
Of perfection. Plump worn-smooth stones must stay
In place to define supple ripening
Modestly but overtly heightening
My sensual response to your visage. A
Natural reaction to synthetic
Composition. You don’t exist within
The stream you straddle. It slithers about
Your ankles, flicking, feathery, antic
Kisses, a convoluting, scaled chagrin
Never becoming apostle devout.

Sonnet #10

Pictured being photographed. Graceful twist
Of hips and head for impromptu pose, poised
For perfection parading here amidst
Fallible fools stumbling over exposed
Curbs. Unfrazzled by paparazzi, you
Brush on down the red carpet. I supposed
Your breast hardly heaved, distracted purview
Of a moment’s startling meaninglessness.
Flashing emissions can never subdue
Your glow. Combing camera candidness
For portions of your grace, they find only
what you allow. Their reproductiveness
cannot recreate your ordered lonely
charisma, just replicate wantonly.

Sonnet #9

Chalk-white skin sprinkled with freckles. Dusted
Free of any moisture that might have marred
Your sacred iconography. Sugared
Breath must come from your chapped lips. I lusted
For a chance to earn from you a trusted
Place near your heart. Drenched efforts have dared
To bring my dank loins near yours. Have I fared
Well? Have my exertions readjusted
Your imperial gaze? I request audience
To pronounce my ambitions toward you:
To perch with you upon the arid throne.
My struggling means nothing, inconvenience
At best. Your dry eyes designate the true
Distance between us. I still stand alone.

Sonnet #8

This time as I look up to your features
Blazoned across the sky, I know the taste
Of unrequited love. I remain chaste
For you. No other receives my gestures
Of affection. Yet your bared breast assures
Me that you lack all modesty. I baste
In anguished urges that have replaced
Natural longings. What desperate measures
Can I take to reign in your abandon,
Contain its excesses? You lack restraint
That I can provide. Do not doubt my bold
Power! I have killed the gripping python
That held earth in its coils. I see the faint
Glimmer from within your eyes smoldering cold.

Sonnet #7

Wearing ragged blue jeans doesn’t alter
Glowing cheeks and creamy pale skin. It seems
No matter how they clothe your beauty’s beams,
Graceful limbs strike careful poses. I falter
Briefly, caught in my pipe-dreaming. Crowds pass
My neutered state. I swim in murky masses
Crawling within concrete pools. Your tresses
Float, winding thru nether regions, harass
My stewed efforts. No coast looms before me
To go ashore. Your laugh propels my reach
For rungs of hopeful ladders. I find each
stroke more arduous than the last. If only
I can rise above treading tepid seas
I might enjoy your powdered, elegant ease.

Sonnet #6

Down here you appear to me from above
Hovering on a building on satin
Sheets that cover your essential places
That I long to discover, like bold Jove
Golden showering between your long, thin
Thighs, infiltrating your private spaces.
Murky, humid, violent winds oppress
My thoughts of you. Then like the wet T-shirt
Covering you, a cool moisture relieves
my burning mind. I feel your soft print dress
flutter above my lowly head. Desert
your high station for me! Smooth brow deceives
me when I intimate my rough longing.
You see me only as the herd thronging.

Sonnet #5

Looking up from the struggling hordes of ugly
People who have no thoughts of your unique
Perspective. A crawling Chinese dragon
Weaving, shaking, and snorting fires, vaguely
Trying to show contempt for your mystique.
Your puffy lips command my attention,
Recognize the hollow, flat existence
Parading below you as meaningful
Cultural experience. I love your disdain,
Your apathy, the depth you evidence
With your shaded curves and so bountiful
Fullness. Why can’t they see? I can’t explain
Your tempting lures to them. I’ll continue
to thank the gods of marketing for you.

Sonnet #4

In the cool air above sweltering streets
She lounges in her breezy negligee
Eyeing the anthill antics of people
Who never climb between her silky sheets
Or even hope to rise to her apogee
Of fashion. Her chilling look, her ample
Curved allure offers textures seldom found
In everyday obscurity. Nipple
Pressing thru thin veneer of lacy clothe
Taunts flat lives walking without a sound
In the hollowness of their lives. Ripple
Effect of your gaze, resonating swath
Of pleasure, grips my root. I’ll be your knight
Shining triumphant on your holy sight.

Sonnet #3

The cool wind blows across my flushed, rough face
As though your fragrant hair has just caressed
Me from above. It won’t slow my heart’s pace
Or slacken my breath. I dream it possessed
Just a wisp of your breath, a hint of rose
That reached down to the burning hot asphalt
Where I stand admiring your fashioned pose
On a sign. Obsession is not at fault
When distance between us isn’t measured
In inches but by possibility,
Offering infinite whims or treasured
Moments suggesting not felicity
But hope. I long for my two-dimensional
World to be graced with your fullest potential.

Sonnet #2

No matter how victorious I am I lose.
The faster that I run the race,
The more I fall behind
Because the prize I seek is out of reach.
It cannot satisfy my dark desire
For it costs me my honest soul,
The value that is beyond compare
Becomes a debt I can’t repay.
The object of my vain hopes
belongs on a marble terrace
Where she looks down on mere mortals
Such as I with stony indifference.
Neither achievement nor rejection
Can ever provide for my redemption.

Sonnet #1

I have a sword of royal grace
that protects me from all harm,
but it encloses me in a glass case
which keeps me from love’s charm.
thru its limpid possessive bars
I see another weapon that I crave:
A blunt object, the heavy mace mars
the idyll of my regal, loveless haven.
These two weapons clash to win me
and I cannot see to choose.
While I long for the mace’s victory
I fear safety should my sword lose.
I want what I have: a royal crown,
 But more I want the mace’s soft down.