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Sonnet: Alas, ’Tis a Nasty World Today!

The horrors of my yester-years are fresh;
The frescoes flash upon my Sylvian screen;
It was not easy breaking up the mesh;
What trials, tribulations through, I’ve been!

This world is nasty without any doubt;
Most people live just selfish, shameless lives;
An elephant could kill its own mahout!
Men make money like bees, honey in hives.

Our problems come from within and without;
The world won’t spare a beggar by the road;
None come to help however much you shout;
Most people need whip-lashes to just goad.

Nevertheless, you cannot blame your God;
All evil men will one day get His rod!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-11-2006

poem by John Celes
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Stop questioning my love. I love you

If inquiring would craft us wise
No eyes would ever stare in eyes;
If all our romance were told in a speech
No talks would travel to any ears and reach
Were feelings free from lethal mesh
And love not jump in hearts of flesh
No throbbing breasts would desire to meet
And find their happiness complete.

For who is there that survives and knows
The furtive powers by which he grows?
Were awareness all, what were our need
To ecstasy and weak and beautifully bleed?

Then request not, cutiee, the 'If' and 'Why'
I love you till I die.
For I have to love since I live
And life in me is what you give.
AND LIFE IN ME IS WHAT YOU GIVE.

poem by Nikhil Chandwani
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I Can See You

In the
Corners
Of my
Eyes,
I can see
You

In the depths
Of my mind,
I can see you

In the halves
Of my heart,
I can see you

In the freckles
Of my face,
I can see you

At the touch

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poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Testing Times For Sonnet Rhymes

Open instincts! Writ theme test who'll see?
Pressed, the mesh inset in style hides, shy.
Efforts knit span lines to link as I
Not on trite end - top levels mask text free.
Your summons seeks, a bubbly threaded key
On to straight end true, whose inner cry
Uses the prose, its music just, to tie.
Reread, prime the brain, gold runes there be
Haste. All nets art, stands meter ready,
Ever here rests precious. Test apply
A hidden cue where a verse pitch apply
Renders truth's initials to train thee.
Take these echos, guest, yet peruse them well,
Sharp telescopes help set score, context spell.

(25 May 2005 & 14 July 2006)

poem by Jonathan Robin
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To A Lady Playing The Harp

Thy tones are silver melted into sound,
And as I dream
I see no walls around,
But seem to hear
A gondolier
Sing sweetly down some slow Venetian stream.

Italian skies--that I have never seen--
I see above.
(Ah, play again, my queen;
Thy fingers white
Fly swift and light
And weave for me the golden mesh of love.)

Oh, thou dusk sorceress of the dusky eyes
And soft dark hair,
'T is thou that mak'st my skies
So swift to change
To far and strange:
But far and strange, thou still dost make them fair.

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poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Bringing My Son To The Police Station To Be Fingerprinted

My lemon-colored
whisper-weight blouse
with keyhole closure
and sweetheart neckline is tucked
into a pastel silhouette skirt
with side-slit vents
and triplicate pleats
when I realize in the sunlight
through the windshield
that the cool yellow of this blouse clashes
with the buttermilk heather in my skirt
which makes me slightly queasy
however

the periwinkle in the pattern on the sash
is sufficiently echoed by the twill uppers
of my buckle-snug sandals
while the accents on my purse
pick up the pink
in the button stitches

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poem by Shoshauna Shy
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Anglers in Love

ANGLERFISH LUST (his)
A ppease my greed,
N arcotic scentress,
G lowing pure quintessence.
L et's mix our blood,
E xcite a flood and
R ig my evanescence.
F or I've great need
I nternally, of
S ustenance and succor.
H ear this, my love,
L et's blend, for I'm an
U rgent little sucker.
S hare my organs, I behest these,
T ake, but save my testes.

BIOLUMINESCENT (hers)
B y pheromones
I ‘ll hypnotize you,
O h my darling, bite me.

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poem by Diane Hine
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Tempus Fugit

TEMPUS FUGIT

Another day plays out, mocks time and place,
inseminating choice with seeds which chance
encounters may have made, or circumstance
contrived to seem haphazard. Steeplechase
Man runs against his life-clock tides a space
ephemeral which ends by happenstance
or slow disintegration. Yet the dance
reels on. The players differ, as the pace
speeds up and ever onwards to enlace
the dancers in a mesh where to advance
leads down the serpent’s jaws, but backward glance
turns fresh to salt yet halts not wretched race.
Yet often those opposing normalcy
are double bound by chains they seek to free.

8 July 1991

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Cross

Two fallen twigs when kept across
Can form a cross;
Two blades of grass just put cris-cross
Becomes a cross.

Two fingers placed atop the next
Looks like a cross;
A wire-mesh has umpteen crosses,
Like stars the sky across.

The cross is symbol of Christians;
The cross is pride of all baptized;
The cross instills love of Jesus;
The cross is feared by all devils!

The cross is sign of faith in God;
The cross means sacrifice like Christ;
The cross reminds of victory over death;
Carry your cross and follow Christ.

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poem by John Celes
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Modern Love XLVIII: Their Sense

Their sense is with their senses all mixed in,
Destroyed by subleties these women are!
More brain, O Lord, more brain! or we shall mar
Utterly this fair garden we might win.
Behold! I looked for peace, and thought it near.
Our inmost hearts had opened, each to each.
We drank the pure daylight of honest speech.
Alas I that was the fatal draught, I fear.
For when of my lost Lady came the word,
This woman, O this agony of flesh!
Jealous devotion bade her break the mesh,
That I might seek that other like a bird.
I do adore the nobleness! despise
The act! She has gone forth, I know not where.
Will the hard world my sentience of her share?
I feel the truth; so let the world surmise.

poem by George Meredith
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