Poetry of SlyM
Sonnet Cycle
Hope
My work today has gone a little late
So with a friend, I sit and take a rest
And then I meet, by luck or crafty fate,
A beauty, who puts passion in my breast.
Who is this pretty girl, with stunning eye,
That easy smile, so true and free of lust?
I have to meet her. And I'll have to try
To gain her precious friendship, and her trust.
Then happy me: she doesn't shy away,
But talks with me politely while we drink.
She takes an interest in the things I say
And truly likes my company, I think.
She is my bright young day; she is my spring;
She makes each breath a new, exciting thing.
Joy
My friends, come near. Attend the things I say
For I have found a better way to live;
Just find a loving partner, then each day
Is filled with joy, and fresh initiative.
The pleasure of each moment that we share
Is greater than mere writing could express.
There ARE no words, to tell how much I care
-Yet this is all I speak of, none the less.
Her smile is warmth. Her eyes just laugh and shine.
Her very presence charms me and excites.
And when she gently puts her hand in mine
My happiness ascends to unknown heights.
She is my summer high, with lengthy days.
Eternal, bright and warm, thus are her rays.
Fear
A change has come, I feel it in the air
But what could come between my love and I?
It's just a little thing, which isn't there
As if some stars were missing from the sky.
I could not say that everything has changed;
The only bit that's missing is our spark.
We're still so close -and yet I feel estranged
As if, somehow, I've lost her in the dark.
I try pretending nothing has been lost
And act the way we always have before.
But even if I'd go to any cost
The Magic is a thing I can't restore.
She is my evening's dusk, my autumn's fall;
A withering, which brings an end to all.
Crushed
The night has come, and lays within my breast
But not a night of dreaming and repose;
A night of cold, and darkness manifest
Through which the lonely, howling storm wind blows.
The world still churns around me, on it's course
But leaves me isolated and apart.
My gladness is replaced by long remorse
While all the love is emptied from my heart.
The overwhelming pain came on me fast,
As sharp as if my thigh bone were to break
And though the searing agony won't last
It leaves behind a hard, relentless ache.
She is my night, my winter dark and cold
With nothing for my eyes or arms to hold.
The sole result then, from this love gone wrong,
Now that my heart's recovering, and strong,
Was growing older. -and this little song.
Written After April, finished 08.11.04