Sonnet for a Box of Worms
Adventure II, Page 94
A dusty shop, with items there amassed,
Most old, few new, all crowded wall to wall.
We saw them in the doorway as we passed,
But now their number holds us quite in thrall.
A dusty sail, a broken fishing rod,
A length of rope that trails across the ground.
A skeleton that's looking rather odd--
These things--and more!--are clustered all around.
But best of all by far is sitting there,
Upon an upturned wooden packing crate.
Inside, though they are found most anywhere:
Some worms, so pink and squiggly: they're great!
So Hi! Nice box of worms! They're looking fine!
They give your shop a lovely added shine.
***
Sonnet for Sleeping Under a Tree
Adventure II, Page 95
Among the bristle-branches of the pines,
The shafts of starlight filtered in between,
On needles soft the wayward scout reclines,
In quietness reposes, all unseen.
He ate a meal of berries from the ground,
Their sweetness, ripe and ready, dropping fast
From branches overladen, soft the sound
Of glossy berries falling, full at last.
Content to sleep in woodland's cradle-bed,
Content to dine on woodland's wild food,
He needs not tent nor table, feels no dread
When contemplating what they can't construe.
...Alas, his friends are stupid, naught they know
Of finding comfort anywhere you go.
***
Sonnet for Instructions
Adventure II, Page 96
The Dane shows pictograms, all drawn with care:
A tent, a knife, a blanket roll, a gun;
His face serene, a smile looking fair
And full of honor when the day is done.
The Captain with her scribbled sketch is fierce;
She shouts and points and frightens passers-by.
They cannot understand the cries that pierce
The air around, and so, concerned, they fly.
The red-haired mage feels helpful now once more,
With illustration labelled carefully.
His grin polite, it's aid he's asking for;
His eyes are shining bright and hopefully.
The Finn, frustrated, scratches at his neck.
His friend stays waiting for his call and beck.
***
Sonnet for a Scratchy Coat
Adventure II, Page 97
The coat I chose to wear to travel out
From little farm in safety tucked away
Fits well, looks fine, and yet it is without
The one essential charm for which I pray.
Its fabric, itchy wool, disturbs my peace,
And scratches at my neck with threadwork rough;
Alas! Will this disturbance never cease?
I tell you truly, I have had enough!
I dart into a shop and leave my friend,
His face disgruntled as I close the door.
I've money and a willingness to spend
My coins upon such cloak as once I wore.
You fools, you thought that I had caught disease,
But only awful fashion threats my ease.
***
Sonnet for his Old Home Place
Adventure II, Page 98
With no nostalgic smile on his face
Nor glint of satisfaction in his eye,
He thinks and speaks of unforgotten place
Where first he learned that safety was a lie.
No fondness settles lightly on his brow,
No sweetness grants his lips a gentle curve.
Returning Then, though he has reached the Now,
Will be the task to test him, heart and nerve.
He has no joy upon the turquoise lake,
The leaf-green sky brings worry, not delight.
His stomach twists, his heart and head both ache,
And eyes desire any other sight.
Sing not the praises of this lovely world;
Into a past unwanted it lies curled.
***
Sonnet for the Lost Settlements
Adventure II, Page 99
Joy once belonged to Finland most, they say,
Renowned in old-world sites and books of lore;
Now half its greens have withered, turned to grey,
And laughter rings our forests--nevermore.*
These towns (it's said) once crowded full with life,
The streets festooned with chatter and good cheer;
Now half vitality has turned to strife
And neighbors evermore are gone from here.
The winter nights turned warm before their fires,
With golden light that spilled from windowpanes;
Now half our comfort's turned to trollish ire,
And we forevermore recall their pains.
The settlements are lost, drowned out by time;
But keep them unforgotten in this rhyme.
*I'm not channeling "The Raven" I'm not channeling "The Raven" I'm...
...yeah, I'm channeling "The Raven."
***
That One Time I Couldn't Write A Sonnet
Adventure II, page 100
I am scared of monsters
There are monsters all around
What am I to do? I simply
Will not make a sound.
I'll stand right here, I will not move
No, never budge an inch!
I do not have a point to prove
I just don't want to die.
This poem's not a sonnet
And it's barely got a form;
The meter's loose, the rhyme's a mess,
And now it isn't there.
What am I even doing?
Why am I even here?
I was kind of sick today
And now I'm stressed, so lend your ears;
I cannot write a sonnet,
Nay, I cannot write a line!
I hope you have good weekends,
And I'll see you in good time.
***
Sonnet for the Sunset
Adventure II, Page 101
The lady lays to rest behind the trees;
Her orange cloak and rosy tresses fall
To drift with secret sleepiness on seas
Untouched, unswum by humankind at all.
The rock is grey and smooth, as is the smoke
That melancholy drifts from fire bright:
A soporific scent; and when we woke
It lingered still in morning's purple light.
The night is dark and difficult and deep,
The waters unforgiving in the swell
With bony hands and slitherers that creep;
But here we're kept both warm and very well.
The canvas' protection is a lie,
But we'll pretend we hear no passers-by.
***
Sonnet for an Arrival
Adventure II, Page 102
The turquoise water in between the pines
Is rippled and disturbed by our canoe;
With hectic, unexpected water-lines
We wend our wary way the whole strait through.
A rotted dock, a sign with faded paint
And crumbling wood awaits us at the shore.
Let form and harried heart be never faint
So we will not be trapped here evermore.
The lake is still and silent but for us,
Our splashing oars, our quiet breaths and talk;
The skittish leaves don't dare to make a fuss,
The heavy air unmoving, white as chalk.
So somewhere's where we've come to, and we'll see
If ever we will leave the waiting trees.
***
Sonnet for Fishing
Adventure II, Page 103
An exercise in such futility
I've never met in all my harried years;
For dangers lurk within the briny sea
Too great, too dark, portending grief and tears.
Besides, it's to the forest I belong,
The sweetly scented woodlands and the trees
Cocooned and deep, mysterious and strong
Disturbed by not a birdsong or a breeze.
The risk is ever present when you cast
A rod or hook to splash the shadowed blue,
That, when you reel your catch to shore at last,
A troll and not a fish will grin at you!
So no! I don't like fishing! Go away!
Come back when you have useful things to say.
~~~~~
Thank you for pointing out my horrible overuse of the word "dark," and for suggesting "shadowed," Richard!
***
Sonnet for a Skeleton
Adventure II, Page 104
Your flesh is torn away, the sinew-stuff
That keeps you warm and safe and full of life;
No insulation left--or not enough--
Protecting you from cold and surest strife.
Your blood is drained; the warm sustaining force,
Essential, bittersweet and colored bright,
Which through your veins would slow and surely course--
Extinguished, like the summer's dying light.
Your voice is gone, your quiet thoughtless hum
In night and day, the background to your form;
Your chatter's left, and never more to come
On winter nights when friends would keep us warm.
You're only bones now, rotting into rust;
Your rafters giving up, becoming dust.
***
Sonnet for Visitors
Adventure II, Page 105
You don't show up around here anymore,
You wanderers with packs and brightened eyes
And wind within your cloaks; the ocean shore
Is in your hearts, the sea-swell's fall and rise.
I haven't seen your kind in months or years,
No foggy figures slipping from the trees,
Their footsteps bold, without a trace of fears,
But quiet like the lapping of their seas.
I've watched the same old faces for so long,
And never caught a glimpse of something new,
That now, bespying you who don't belong,
I scarcely think you're real; you can't be true.
Oh, visitors. Hello, you starry souls.
Beware the night. You travel with the trolls.
***
Sonnet for a Crazy Hermit
Adventure II, Page 106
A crazy hermit shows that he's obsessed
By gardening 'neath starlight and 'neath sun
Without a moment's pause or second's rest,
For he won't leave one single task undone.
A crazy hermit demonstrates true love
By pruning hedge 'neath skies of blue and black
Without an instant's dropping of his glove
Nor placement of his shears upon a rack.
A crazy hermit flaunts his endless care
By weeding and by shovelling the dirt;
For not a single minute will he dare
To cease, although his blisters start to hurt.
And strangest thing of all? I do declare:
He's tidying for no-one! No-one's there!
***
Sonnet for One Day
Adventure II, Page 107
One day, I'll place my shovel in a shed
And wander in the flowers I have grown.
One day, my garden will protect the dead
Who lie beneath the soil, dust and bone.
But peaceful will the fallen be, one day,
One day when trouble toils here no more,
One day when children cheerfully will play
Above the quiet sleeping 'neath the shore.
One day, I'll welcome strangers happily,
With no thought to the place they wander from.
One day, the sun is all that I will see
And only lovely ones shall hither come.
One day, this island will be settled well.
One day, I will not have to live in Hell.
***
Sonnet for Tuuri
Adventure II, Page 108
Bright eyes, bright face, bright mind and brighter heart,
Her curiosity would be her end.
They said we were like cats—we walked apart,
But knew we not what suchlike cats portend.
O light! You were more bird that cat, I deem,
Your trilling song, your quick, inspecting gaze;
Your hopefulness, a soft, undying gleam
Though trollish fogs and duskling’s plaugeish haze.
Where are you now? My lost one in the waves,
The cold, uncaring flood stole back your breath.
And whence did you alight? My child brave,
How could you meet with such a one as death?
O swallowed dove, my sister in the sea!
My salty tears can’t call you back to me.
***
Sonnet for a Child
Adventure II, Page 109
I've shrunk. I'm small. I've lost my adult form!
My strength and height and muscle--down the drain!
The last I knew, I'd settled nice and warm
Into a bed, and now I meet this pain!
My clothes are fancy, but my eyes are wide
With terror and with seeing this disgrace.
I do not know how I can bear my pride
With elegance when I've a child's face.
And look! There's Reynir, braid shorn off his head!
He looks confused as currently I feel.
I think this is the worst of any bed
That I have slept upon in this ordeal.
At least my hair's intact and beautiful.
No time can rob it of its volume full.
***
Sonnet for Curious Circumstances
Adventure II, Page 110
The world is bright with sunlight through the leaves
And sparkles on the water in the glade.
In mossy corners, shadow gives reprieve
To sun-chased forest-creatures in the shade.
And we are children once again, it seems,
But still unquiet thoughts are in our minds.
No innocence like sunshine's golden gleams
Has yet returned, though all our forms rewind.
Who are you? Though I know you very well,
I do not know this form which you possess.
And though we stand in lively wooded dell,
I wonder if we've come here in duress.
O Circumstances Strange, why are we here?
Is this a cause for joy, or one for fear?
***
Sonnet for a Dream
Adventure II, Page 111
We walk in sunlight over water clear,
And hear the birds sing fright-songs from the trees
And know that danger must be harbored near
Within these woods unruffled by a breeze.
Ahead, within the shadows, walk the ones
Who only dwell in dream-world's memory;
By troll-claw and disease they were undone
And laid to sleep in perpetuity.
And whither do you wander, ghostly group?
Your faces pale like sickness and like death,
Demeanor hushed and angry, on you troop;
You're blank and merciless and draw no breath.
We follow swift through pastways full of fear.
We do not wish to linger longer here.
***
Sonnet for Young Onni
(Sonnet for It's Been Too Long Since I Wrote One Of These)
Adventure II, Page 119
My cousin is at work on shepherd-farms,
With smelly sheep and trampled, brown-green grass.
He carries woolly bundles in his arms
And helps to harvest ere the season's pass.
My cousin's young inside this memory,
His future--if not bright--at least intact;
My cousin fears not for our family,
But one day he will learn to guard our track.
My cousin. He is helping, he is whole.
My cousin. She is at his side, aglow.
Her smile. It is bright, a star she stole
From where it hovered over oceans low.
They're trapped inside this flitting, fading dream,
And nothing stays for long the way it seems.
***
Sonnet for Stupidity
Adventure II, Page 139
A desperate echo etched across the years;
Adrift on tempest-time it ravages
A family brought to trouble and to tears
By troll and rash that rends and savages.
With gnarled cane of bone and fossiled wood
Destruction's rolling eyes and rotting head
Come peering where such persons never should
And knocking out a toll to leave us dead.
It preys on folly, catches at our skin
Where frailest it lies stretched across the bone,
Or hooks a curving fingernail within
To scrape the fear to languish all alone.
We mutter to ourselves, these whispered words
That cannot drown the speech that we have heard.
***
Sonnet for My Eyes
Adventure II, Page 140
A dreadful sickness festers in my eyes;
It coils in a rash-form underneath
The blues and greys, the layers where it dies
And rots to a monstrosity beneath.
Avert your gaze, look not into those pools
Which look so light but spiral fathoms down
Where tentacles are waiting to unspool
And drag you deeper, bringing you to drown.
The waters will grow warmer with your blood,
And in that heat the illness multiplies
And washes through your body in a flood,
Invading to the music of your cries.
My child, turn your gaze unto the ground
Where life no longer lingers all around.
***
Sonnet for Mixed Signals
Adventure II, Page 141
She told me not to look her in the eyes,
To turn away, avert my widened gaze;
For through the shade of peaceful cloudy skies
The ailing fire of the sun would blaze.
She screamed at me to look her in the eyes,
While she was speaking, that way I should turn;
But through the silver-grey I could surmise
A monster waited with a fever-burn.
My eyes were open, taking in the world,
I turned this way and that, to her, away--
Behind my eyes the storm reflected whirled
Destroying much, though never long to stay.
So we are whisked and ravaged by the gale--
Not long, not long, until our strength will fail.
***
Sonnet Without Sadness
Adventure II, Page 142
Unloading all our things, he fell asleep;
Now lies he snoring on our faded couch.
Do not disturb him! do not make a peep
Except to giggle at his sleepy slouch.
Receiving you with gladness that you've come
To tell us tales of harvest-time ashore,
One hand I raise to greet, the other thumb
Neglects to leave the page on which I pore.
Elysian autumn, spend them all the same;
Some quiet days of work and then of rest--
One day has passed before we knew it came
Here, tucked within our safe and sleepy nest.
Now shaded in the green, I sit and read
Of far-off lands, and long-forgotten deeds.
find the ominous "undertones," Socks, I dare you!***
Sonnet for a Critter
Adventure II, Page 143
A critter comes and pokes me in the eye,
Disturbing me in midst of sweetest sleep--
To rouse me from the softness where I lie
Quite lost in dream-fog, ponderous and deep.
O critter! Must you always wake me thus?
For surely you can plot some other way,
Some method that involves less pain and fuss,
To lift me from my bed to greet the day.
Your poking glove the sword on which I die,
My vision is impaled, the world erased
By tears that flood my view and block the sky--
And when they clear, I see my critter's face.
But hark--the critter brings unwelcome tales
A monster wakes: our village festers, ails.
***
Sonnet for the Wait
Adventure II, Page 144
The wire loops in unforgiving curls
With barbs set stark and black against the flame--
The fire, with its tremors and its whirls,
Its light that drowns the path on which we came.
There's no return. There is no going back.
The night is thick and cold and full of sores
That bleed a fog that filters through the black
And shivers on the edges of our shores.
If we could watch the sea, be sure, we would--
Instead, we watch for morning's fickle sight,
The sickly yellow seeping through the wood
To douse the warmth and glow of firelight.
We watch. The night is sick, the sun is late.
The ship is on its way. We only wait.
***
Sonnet for the Years
Adventure II, Page 145
A round face, soft, and full of quiet life,
With downy hair of silver-grey; and eyes--
His eyes--so round and wondering, where strife
Has not yet dared to lay its harsh surprise.
He has not felt the horrors of the woods,
(At least, not felt them quite so desperately)
The years like claws that claw as nothing should,
That cut his cheeks to sharpness, make him freeze.
His eyes--his eyes--so dark and closed these days,
His hair untended, rough and calloused skin--
The gentle flame of youth has dulled its blaze;
A sole, sustaining candle burns within.
The years have stolen softness from a boy
Too young, too young to lose his little joy.
***
Sonnet for a Sister
Adventure II, Page 145
Asleep within my arms, so unafraid,
The fear that soon would fill her held at bay;
The sun with careless dapples softly played
Upon her little form at close of day.
Her face unworried, calm—her eyes held shut
With rest, and not with fear and hurt like mine--
My hand was on her back, the silence cut
By broken sounds, our future's grim design.
At rest, a blanket holding fast our heat,
The warmth of blood alive within our veins--
She feared no loss, my dear, naive and sweet,
In sleep, she couldn't see the coming pains.
And come they would, like shadows to our sight
That gather thick and suffocate your sight.
~~~
Thank you, AndyW, for being my dictionary...totally had the wrong definition of “unscrupulous” in my head
***
Sonnet for the Reeds
Adventure II, Page 146
The reeds are whispering, the air is still,
The sleepy weight of dreamtime settled round;
Grey water lapping quiet, water chill,
And otherwise our voices all the sound.
The rocks are dreaming underneath the lake,
The lilypads are sleeping up above,
And we are sleeping here until we wake
To greet a world that grants us little love.
Our boat half-sunk, we perch upon its sides;
To break the water's peace we do not fear.
So, speaking of the sorrows that abide,
We name our plight to any list'ning ear.
And who can hear us, here among the reeds?
Unless they bend their heads--unless they heed--
