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    AC Benus
  • AC Benus
  • Author
  • 12/07/2017
  • 245 Words
  • 1,636 Views
  • 4 Comments
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

One Hundred and Fifty-Five Sonnets - 39. heat in the frozen food aisle

.

Sonnet No. 77

 

You stopped me cold in the supermarket.

You staggered me and I could not go on,

So I stood in the frozen food aislette,

My hand trembling upon my coupon.

You in your warm world far removed from there

Paused to consider how much you love me –

How you wanted your hands on my flesh bare,

And drove me mad for you in slow degree.

So the mundane gives way for the special,

For who in this chill place seeing me stop

Would ascribe an intense love mystical

When they cannot see you in the backdrop.

Warm or cold, your love is always around,

It catches me wherever I am found.

 

 

Sonnet No. 78

 

I open my arms, and you fit like a glove,

Your ear on my pulse, my hand on your head,

For this contact; this silence – this is love –

In spite of all the things we have said.

There is no word for forgiveness that works

Quite as well as the contact of our flesh,

And no absolution that respect shirks

When our lovemaking starts again afresh.

I kneel as I write this, almost in prayer,

Before the page that can sanctify this,

And through the early morning hour, I swear,

As you still sleep in bed, I love you Tony.

Now to return to your side, and renew;

My love's better exampled, through and through.

 

 

_

Copyright © 2018 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

Parker Owens

Sonnet 77 is wonderful for the constant contrast you write; heat and cold, nearness and distance, mundane and mystical. The commonplace setting utterly grounds the reader in your reality, yet there is nothing ordinary in the love you describe. The final couplet was so good, I had to read it aloud just for the satisfaction of it. 

 

Sonnet 78 is immensely beautiful and direct; the scene is painted clearly in four lines. What you say about forgiveness and reconciliation - absolution - is so right. It is in that closest warmth one can renew and be renewed. The page sanctifying the word was a fantastic idea, too. And your final line ...My love's better exampled, through and through... is a sublime truth. 

 

 

 

  • Love 1
AC Benus
On 12/7/2017 at 10:17 AM, Parker Owens said:

Sonnet 77 is wonderful for the constant contrast you write; heat and cold, nearness and distance, mundane and mystical. The commonplace setting utterly grounds the reader in your reality, yet there is nothing ordinary in the love you describe. The final couplet was so good, I had to read it aloud just for the satisfaction of it. 

 

Sonnet 78 is immensely beautiful and direct; the scene is painted clearly in four lines. What you say about forgiveness and reconciliation - absolution - is so right. It is in that closest warmth one can renew and be renewed. The page sanctifying the word was a fantastic idea, too. And your final line ...My love's better exampled, through and through... is a sublime truth. 

 

 

 

Thank you, Parker, for all your support and kinds words for me. Concerning No. 77, yes, you are right about the abutment of contrasts. It seems a constant presence in our lives if we chance to tune into it. 

 

You bring a smile to my face by saying No. 78 is beautiful. The poem makes me think, or rather 'see', sunlight slanted across the bed. They are like inching fingers of warmth caressing chilled flesh.

 

Thank you again, dear friend.      

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