buddeepal (buddeepal) wrote in poetic___slap,
buddeepal
buddeepal
poetic___slap

Introductions and Poetry Postings: 3 Sonnets

Personals:
Name: Roger W. Eberle
Age:45
Location: Langley, BC

Favourites:
Author:John Fowles
Poet:William Blake
Journalist: Oliver Stone
Book:The Magus by John Fowles
Poem: "My Last Duchess" by Robert Browning
Topic of conversation: life's deepest meanings


Opinions on...
War: Senseless waste of human passion.
Sex: the most intense personal communication known to humanity
Drugs: They are a necessary evil for some; for others they are an unnecessary risk.
Music: The opiate of the masses--whoever said it was religion got it wrong; but a religion for some IS music!

3 OF MY SONNETS:

XXXVII. On Time

Forever—moments of time to the one
who created all the stars in the sky
A day—said to be one thousand years
to the one to whom the angels all fly.
Time is relative, Einstein once supposed;
but seconds all want to be first!
counting the syllables in a form that is closed,
sometimes stifles the verse.
What if Time were a sonnet, what then?
Would a syllable more or less make it wrong?
Would a slant rhyme challenge or would it offend?
Would a slant rhyme stifle the song?
And if Time were a song, how would it end?
If a sonnet, how much time would it spend?





XXXVIII. To What should I Compare You, Canada?

To what should I compare you, Canada—
A nation whose main world mission is peace?
You bring people together, Canada.
You’re Jason in search of the Golden Fleece.
True gold ram’s wool made from many countries,
woven into your fabric, Canada.
You are more rich than many companies.
You’re the envy of many, Canada.
Humble, yet proud, your Maple Leaf flies high,
symbol of the tree of state growing strong,
gracing with bold red and white your fair sky,
proclaiming justice for all, right or wrong.
“Oh Canada,” let your children agree,
A greater land may no-one ever see!









XXXIX. A Wintry Wish for May

It’s a breezy, bright, cold, and sunny day.
This wild, winter weather keeps me solemn
I want the merry, merry month of May
to lift spirits like a Roman column:

To hold them aloft, so that they soar high;
to buoy them up, so they don’t droop low.
I long for May’s warm, mild, clear, and blue sky;
then I’ll get out of the house and just go.

I’ll go to the beaches, I’ll climb the hills,
I’ll walk in the evening, I’ll count the stars,
I’ll swim in the ocean, I’ll look for shells,
I’ll shoot for heaven, I’ll travel to Mars!

May may mock winter in my musing mind,
but winter still stands outside, so unkind.
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