Sonnets are a beautiful poetic discipline, both in the Italian and the English form: crafted naturally to be recited their pace can be a stride, a stomp, or a meander, entirely dependent on the hue of the words, the inner shift in tone so important. Here are some of mine, archived from daily writings, not all the full 14 lines but otherwise in form.

What is this stuff that is flesh and blood
That men call measurable matter
It feels no different from the water and mud
As storm clouds perpetually now gather

And as raindrops smash into roses in bud
The grey gleam of the pond quickly shatters
The pain of losing you again surging into flood
And so brutally nothing else matters

Windsongs of the trees rise into the skies
As heavily each thought I have clatters
Knowing every creature, stumbling, horribly dies
And I imagine your cold flesh in tatters

What is this grief that so scours my bloody veins
Oh god, take these tears - I need violent torrential rains

* * * * *

Darkness: oh ancient mother, your arms open wide
I breathe gratitude, tears sliding down my cold skin
Aware that within your heart I can curl up and hide
Dissolving into formlessness, letting go all I've been

As all around, in the desperate hiss of electric lights
The gloss of Christmas greetings cluttering the air
Decadence without hunger hurries, plunders and fights
Grasping for more, so much more than could possibly be fair

And I close my eyes and weep for this sacred earth
That within a week will be force-fed the left-over litter
Plastic, crumpled paper, little boxes of so little worth
Discarded by the gorged, the unsatisfied and bitter

Darkness: I give thanks for this night's long embrace
Wondering how long you'll forgive humanity its obscene lack of grace

* * * * *

Was it only in dream that we met - it seemed so real
The black starlit skies like a roof above our rite
The blade of your prayers to a god that you could feel
Eviscerating your soul of its resentful ache to fight

Was it only in dream that we met, and for a moment
Smiled as a song touched us through the cold damp breeze
Knowing how warm skin could express what we meant
As we stumbled over words, gazing up into the trees

And was it only in dream that I held your face in my hands
And sang the stories of your people, your blood on my tongue
And you slept as if your flesh had found the mud of your lands
And my tears were your grandmother's holding the body of her son

But you laugh and you smoke and you joke of fighting still
And I recognise the value of my dreams must lie at nil

* * * * *

As if a memory of war again pierced the cold air
He stumbles on his feet, cries out, gasping for breath
Clutching at branches, blackthorn pushing his despair
As courage is replaced by shame and a longing for death

Tumbling he lands, bleeding, on his knees on the earth
Leafmold and twigs, breaking, pushing into his skin
Strangely aware that he is still falling, without worth
Drenched in fear, while spinning on the ecstasy within

Looking up, into the eyes of such an ancient horror
The emptiness stares down into all that is left of him
Provoking not terror, but a fuel of emetic wonder
He knows his soul is slipping, his mind is now broken

My Lady, I come before you to honour my grandfather
Before I stretch these black wings and fly from this gutter

* * * * *

Pausing, again, a frown crumples my brow as I
Gaze at the pictures offered by my imagination
And wonder at the absurdity of what is your life
With its passionless shuffle and growing sedation

And leaves above rustle in the grey shimmering wind
This flood tide of life surging through us again
Its meaningless vibrancy, so gloriously undisciplined
Though you shiver, bewildered, so frightened of pain

And I pause, this frown again crumpling my brow
As the strings of my heart tug like old leather reins
My love for you tangled by the bounds of what your life allows
As you plod through days leaving quiet and bitter stains

Come away with me, my love, for your chains of normality
Are no more than bright paper, labelled morality

* * * * *

And - how many words have now passed between us
Murmurings of poignant things so tenderly shared
Whispering, barely breathing, aching for consensus
Wondering if you felt the same, wide eyed and scared

And how many leaves are on the verge of falling, now
Drying in the chilling winds of this darkening autumn
Momentarily gold when sinking sulight hits the bough
Then letting go, changing our world, one by one

How many nights have we spent, wakefully dreaming
Wishing we knew where this woodland track will go
Feeling every stone underfoot, seeking meaning
As if the future were something we wanted to know

Yet, wordless now, beneath this tree, as leaves softly fall
Our lips meet for the first time, as ever we shall recall

* * * * *

Out there in a room of wandering shadows and light
Where each surface is coloured with edges and hues
Voices leaving traces of sounds that drift out of sight
And hope teeters upon moments, and dissolves unused

Out there amidst faces ever painted on passing time
Where chattering like old human air fills the space
And glances leave marks of intention in heavy mime
But nothing of significance waits eager to take place

Out there I sit smiling, choking on the mediocrity
Striving to find, to define, sense within gentleness
Shuffling my words like dog-earred cards no one'll see
Offering scraps of my grandmas' wit, albeit nebulous

Then you, storm breaking grey, catch my breath
And I let slip another layer of sanity on this path to my death

* * * * *

You stare into space, my love, searching the grey air
As I gaze into your face, my love, hollow with need
My face wet with tears, my love, as I kneel and bleed
Listening to the moments drip-dripping beyond care

You stare into her face, my love, searching for words
As I gaze into the skies, my love, awaiting the storm
Your face stiff with wordlessness, love taut and torn
Tears glistening, as the rain begins, stilling the birds

And the river moved gently year after ageless year
Winding through the willows and the quiet berried may
Autumn leaves meandering upon its careless flow

But the rain comes, filling breath with ancestral fear
And the waters surge and recede, leaving such disarray
As from above our lives are watched by the old black crow

* * * * *

Amidst the old veils of night's languid darkness
You traced your life along the curve of my breast
As if so slowly chasing what, watching, I guess
To be the dreams you shrug off in cyncism and jest
And in the brute madness of my grandmother's gift
When exhaustion overwhelms, flooding my room
I stare at you, across the waters, my sanity adrift
Wondering who it is that sits so nervously at my tomb
Would you hold me as if this minute might last forever
As if each word were hewn here in stone for our goddess
Or do you tremble to imagine so great an endeavour
As a love that breathes love, each breath a caress

And I wake at dawn, my heart aching, alone once again
You walk the dog, quietly moving beneath trees in the rain

* * * * *

From a distance your feet appear firm on the ground
Each step in the rhythm of your grandfathers' songs
The clasp of your hand strong as if with a certainty refound
Your voice warm as if knowing where your heart belongs

Come beside you I feel the gentle beat of your drum
The tread of your big boots on the give of the soil
Your hand clenches as if you can sense that it's numb
As you search the horizon beyond the lands you toil

And when our eyes meet across the flight of the crow
Your grandmothers' tears are pools in their soft brown mud
Our hands touch as briefly as only the wind can know
Whispering the old words of each ash as it comes to bud

In the darkness I hear your soul keening, unashamed
In daylight we smile, as though the tale were not yet named

* * * * *

The grass feels so parched upon this dusty cracked clay
My fingers slipping through uncountable golden seedheads
Foxtails, meadow fescues, sedge and rye for the hay
Spiders spinning old tales of summer with silver threads
Softly undulating in the warm wind upon ridge and furrow
Seas sun-sparkling with toadflax, buttercups and oxeyes
Bees in the clover, a pheasant's entrance narrated by a crow
And a woodpecker laughs as the lark reaches for the skies
And I sit, bending stalks, my head sinking into my hands
The hope of my grandmothers, as the breeze lifts my hair
The sweat of my grandfathers as they worked for their lands
Sharing warm bread and cider, their laughter filling the air
As a mouse scampers clear, the scythe slicing through
The hum of the combine harvester grumbling into view

* * * * *

How softly she snarls settling down onto warm stone
Momentarily lifting her eyes to the wind-blown trees
As if reminding each leaf of her need to be alone
Her eyes closing, exhausted by the ever-dancing bees
And how quietly the tears roll down my human cheeks
As her whiskers twitch in the flickering leaf-light
My skin pale, transluscent, with salt-wet vivid streaks
Her fur black-splattered gold, her chin creamy white
And how blissful the moment of letting go my form
Dissolving into darkness, my humanity all but gone
Then I am she, breathing me, gazing, calm and warm
At a world, green and vibrant, tender and strong
But my feet slip on leaves, I hear the laughter of a jay
And I stumble, grasping thorns, as spiders scramble away

* * * * *

When rain in fat drops of sparkling wet light
Grey falls through the warm thick air of summer
Each soul smashing as it sets dry dust to flight
Until puddles inspire some damp elvish drummer
And humming with my grandmothers' blood and pain
My soul aches to be released from prisons of shelter
Until standing arms outstretched breathing in rain
I am singing to the gods of this ancient sacred water
And the tears of my broken heart are tenderly hidden
My soul flayed and bleeding by this love that's forbidden

* * * * *

Summer's light now washes over all I perceive
This flood of warmth that crafts the days so long
Rising with its declarations of hope in the east
Before even the first birds can muster a song
And though, I admit, it brings colour and vibrancy
Shimmering with life upon leaf and lake and love
I am not so convinced of its essential quality
Its claims of bright sanctity from the gods above
For it touches but the skin, the superficial covering
Leaving truth to hide still in the darkness within