Category Archives: Sonnets

Sonnet #11

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We have eternal ‘monicas that sing.
An icy cloud is growing over the South.
Out of the woods the Sun creates a ring
Though which the river dances in its mouth.

We’ve rowed this dream one hundred times before.
We’re made of the same blood that’s in the stars.
What does it take to sail through the gold door
Back to a life that always has been ours?

The pink clouds are the signal you sent up.
There’s something missing from this story line.
There must be something in that holy cup.
The same as Gilgamesh’s sacred vine.

We dive below that sea on every night
That Tristan oneday sees her sail is white.

©2013 Stephen K. Pickering

Sonnet #3 in Iambic Trimeter

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Those Canadien snow geese are the soul
The azaleas in the Spring
They have nowhere to go
But one can hear them sing.

That was a little poetical fragment that came to me on a walk just now, in the gorgeous springtime air, of course a little Starbucks influenced as well as the air, water, Sun, geese, birds singing. Maybe I’ll make it into a longer piece, or maybe I’ll just leave it as it is. Feels honest. Anyway, below is my latest “Sonnet” installment

Sonnet #3 in Iambic Trimeter

We can not face ourselves.
There has to be a way.
We’re grasping for the trails
Of fairies on the lake.

I wanted you to know
We’re oxygen that see
A blanket in the snow
Of flying wild white geese.

We have too many things.
Sight blinded by two eyes.
The trails go out in rings
Soul’s wings that spray the skies.

When we accept this ride
Then Isis is our bride.

©2013 Stephen K. Pickering

Sonnet #8 in Iambic Tetrameter – A White Hart

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What do we find ourselves inside?
The Roman army’s moving north.
A sacrifice the snake won’t die.
The oblations smoke is rising fourth.

Wish you could fall in love with me.
The sacrament’s the gateless gate.
I could turn you back from a stream
Fulfilling or escaping fate.

The Garden’s walls are Persian blue
Aladdin’s castle’s Spanish bound.
It all comes down to me or you
If secrets hid are ever found.

Our Jinn fall down a Roman well.
The white hart runs without a trail.

©2013 Stephen K. Pickering

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Sonnet #7 in Iambic Tetrameter – “Blue Mountain”

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I think I’ve figured out a way
To flower dreams and rain down stars,
To step on through the cameras frame
Back to a life that’s always ours.

I think I’m bathing here in rain.
On this blue mountains’ lifesong slope.
Eternal, never ending train,
You feather birds and lift our hope.

I write today you underground.
You’ll always hear my whistle song.
This sea of Neptune will be found
Through ocean blue and London fog.

I’ve swum this sea that floods the past.
A fish for which Apollo cast.

©2013 Stephen K. Pickering

 

Sonnet #6 in Iambic Tetrameter

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I don’t know why I turned away.
I come to Athens to be born.
The angel of goodbye will play
Through even Aristotle’s horn.

I will appear up from the sea.
I am again borne by the tides.
Will she agree to marry me?
I like her wild, surprised green eyes.

In soaking water I’ll be found.
My river loves the water blue.
I drink this love in which I drown
Forever swimming here with you.

We surface and what do we find?
That fairy hills are back alive.

©2013 Stephen K. Pickering

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(04-18-13 I edited this today and changed some things. Threw out the original last stanza and closing two lines. They are here below. I’m gonna keep them around here on the blog post. If I ever make it into a musical song, I’ll need another stanza, and maybe another refrain.)

You are the burning flame that rose
But we can only feel the nail.
When spring azaleas colors explode,
Your spirit opens the sacred trail.

I need to be outside with you.
You’re soaked with Sun and morning dew.

 

 

Sonnet #5 in Iambic Tetrameter

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I think we can go back in time.
Two eyes look out from this old house.
Adventure starts when love’s divine
and lights the flame that cries out loud.

It’s time to slip on through this gap.
It’s time to see what life’s about.
We’re tired inside Guernica’s trap.
Let’s leave tonight, and let’s get out.

There must be something deeper still.
Let’s be the things we want to be.
Let’s know things even eyes conceal:
Our true love waits below this sea.

I think the song begins to sing.
All time and space can hear it ring.

©2013 Stephen K. Pickering