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    AC Benus
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  • 239 Words
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  • 2 Comments

One Hundred and Fifty-Five Sonnets - 67. a million voices speaking at once

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Sonnet No. 133

 

When you are tired and your muscles ache;

When the day’s stress rides hard on neck and blades,

Lay yourself down, and your burdens forsake,

While I light candles that your bad mood dissuades.

Over your tense form my fingers make a stake

To claim the right to mine with no withholder;

To drain from your worries by daybreak,

So you will dazzle every beholder.

But the night has just begun to awake,

And the candles’ scent in our brain smolders –

Raise your arms, and let my hands undertake

To massage you, and melt our composure.

And if a stray kiss lands perchance here and there,

You’ll find my bargain’s payment is more than fair.

 

 

Sonnet No. 134

 

Time is short, and it grows ever fleeting

With a million voices speaking at once

For attention; for hate; for love; seeking

To stop destiny’s crush that Man confronts.

Sometimes I see me picking up a book,

Where end-papers have ‘born and dead’ brackets,

Squeezing the author to the course his life took,

Negating all that he was and transmits.

So, how not to bend to soul-crushing fate? –

For if I saw my own lived/died timeline,

How could it then any more motivate

My impassioned drive to fortune outshine?

Yet, our voice won’t perish, because the truth,

And Love, speaks clearly to the heart of youth.

 

 

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Copyright © 2018 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.

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Chapter Comments

Number 133 let me scent the candles and behold the scene in their soft yellow light. The picture you paint in this is warm and welcoming, and the final couplet seemed perfect. He is indeed a lucky man to have come home to you. Number 134 gave me pause, unshuttering the window to our mortality. The cold, hard fact of one's inevitable "dates" scatters the ashes of one's life, at least until I come to the final couplet. Then, you restore us, as one may stand again to the sound of a new voice. Thank you for these.

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1 hour ago, Parker Owens said:

Number 133 let me scent the candles and behold the scene in their soft yellow light. The picture you paint in this is warm and welcoming, and the final couplet seemed perfect. He is indeed a lucky man to have come home to you. Number 134 gave me pause, unshuttering the window to our mortality. The cold, hard fact of one's inevitable "dates" scatters the ashes of one's life, at least until I come to the final couplet. Then, you restore us, as one may stand again to the sound of a new voice. Thank you for these.

Thank you for your warm comments, Parker. In regards to No. 134, I'll say technically speaking that poem is a bit ambitious. Arguably the most challenging place to put the pivot point in a Sonnet is at the very end, at the start of the couplet. Your remarks here give me hope the poem 'works' despite this unusual arrangement.

Thanks again. I really appreciate your support :)    

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