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.
rima fragmenta, Fragments of a Rift: Fifty Sonnets for Kevin - 24. a practice to perform
.
Sonnet No. 47
Draftsmen will say you must have drawn five miles
Before claiming much mastery of the line,
But what then of poets, we metrophiles,
Drawing on clouds and rainbows for design?
How many words must we write to persuade
An order and control onto our heart,
Expounding the soul not to act afraid
All while we bleed ink and tears for our art.
Answers are not here, or at least for each
The number of lines the mind must draft
– Or the treaded miles of patience they teach –
Varies by a single degree of craft:
For expression is not about any form;
Without love, it’s but a practice to perform.
Sonnet No. 48
Love is a gift we give ourselves, it’s said,
But what other munificence offers
Self-charity to live beyond the dead
With nothing but words stuffed in its coffers.
You may not find here those earthly riches
Only to be sought on the temporal plane,
And think my love merely moans and bitches,
Loudly mourning your absence and disdain.
But to a higher purpose we’re both led
When mind to mind there’s no question within
That what’s ordained in benefice is fed
All the treasures of the world that’s ever been.
Doubt me if you must, if it feels better,
But accept this our deaths can unfetter.
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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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