Five Sonnetto Type Poems

i.

April Fool.

There is no room for bitterness in the quest,
what might have been might not have been
that I were born, yet grief be remorseless.

O prescient dawn that to twilight turns,
time ruins, what caveat the dust?

Have all my errors been in vain but for blame?
Fair is foul & foul is fair truth conceals
at what e’er a gambler’s dice throw reveals,
as play to win or lose chooses not
if love be chance or dance of chaos!
“What if” is an unequal opposite,
where heart must lose to be born,
forsaken & bereft, to begin to yearn.

ii.

Sunday Afternoon.

He undresses like an ostrich, plume
All & pilot brain,
As with the genial smile of the flea,
Mottled and scrawny of limb, he
Leaps into foam.

On the ceiling shadow fighters zoom,
Before, in blaze of pink fume,
A collage of explosions
The minarets adorn.

The Mughal hordes swoop down,
Down from the Ukraine,
No room for immigration,
On this Sunday afternoon.

iii.

Sunday Afternoon with Subine

Carnal carnivalesque on walls cavort
with stone age brain & chimpanze heart.
Water, electricity & sewers,
desmene of rats, rabbit cats, ravenous
toads with kangeroo leaps, as
the elephants come trampling corn
& the locusts swarm through thin
blue & white walls in Ariel steam,
as spiders scurry to their crannies
abandoning molten dewy nets
with which he robes his naked self
in frails fronds, host to a house of ghosts.

iv.

Sonnetto.

Since you’ve been gone,
he can’t go home again,
though the road still be long
time is running out for him,
in the rain, not going on.

At times beneath the eves,
he seems to hear you breath,
yet you elude, like the breeze.
Grief turns cold & then numb,
what’s done cannot be undone.

Call it as you may, folly of youth,
if that were all the simple truth,
for now it seems end has no name,
after you & he can’t go home again.

v.

Karma.*

Conflicts begin & end
Limits of this ephemeral world
In its womb of time,
Where none can tell what is held
As destiny in world of multiple illusion,
In world within world
Within world without end,
Where Divine Karma, La Musa,
Reveals in mirage infinite order,
Wherein we only seem to dream
& be dreamed within a dream,
To come & go & return again,
As do the sands in that light,
Which are our day & night.

*After E A Poe. Dream within a Dream.

Copyright Robin Ouzman Hislop 2003.
http://www.authorsden.com/robinouzmanhislop


Five Sonnetto Type Poems