"It’s a good round for a knockdown. It’s the right time of the night to throw the fight and leave the pieces where they fall... "

I guess I have some catching up to do.

The other week I actually found some old poems in an otherwise unused notebook. I vaguely remember writing them, but apparently they haven't seen the light of day in over a year. So I figured I'd air them out here...

This is the first, chronologically, of the two. It's a true Spenserian sonnet, which is nice when you can pull it off. I'm not sure what else I can say about it, seeing as I've already admitted that I only vaguely remember even being it's author. I can tell that it was probably during that period where I started to realize that my sentence structure followed rhymescheme much too rigidly (i.e. each quatrain was a separate thought). You can tell because how how desperately I made the theme of the second quatrain bleed over into the first line of the sextet.

"... the terror of the darkness in my face." -2/13/08

Without a mirror, I am many things;

I find no noble task I cannot do

And everything I want to be is true

Without the honest face reflection brings.

In stagnant pools there are no moving rings

To trouble or disturb the placid blue.

The surface shows the face I show to you

Until disturbed by force of living springs,

Confusion like a pond that's marred by rain.

And thus it is I find I clearly sense

The shadow on my heart when you are near.

My guarded, gilded icon seems profane,

The tapers I have lit, a great offense.

To see my face in darkness is my fear...

"...It’s the right month of the year to have you here,

The ground gets cold but the skies are clear

And the angle of the sun

Could keep the shadows on the run."

-L