Friday, 21 July 2017


Not another Sonnet!

OK, so maybe this should've been one of my entries for last year's Paragram Prize - on the theme of Paradox - but as I'd already submitted it elsewhere, prior to the competition announcement, I didn't offer it up to Paragram.

As it happened, it didn't get accepted for publication, so now it's here for your delectation, in all it's paradoxical glory. And there's an epigram to go with it. I'm sure you'll appreciate the connection.


"You have to be crazy to be in love, but if you're crazy, you can't know love, and if you confess to knowing you're crazily in love, you must be too sane to really be in love.” Y'sarian, the Elder. 

O shall I say it was love at first sight;
how could such madness strike us both? O Bette!
My eyes beheld your face aglow with light.
I saw how you saw me when first we met.

Then in your eyes I was refracted tall
and you for whom I felt I took each breath
said without me, you could not live at all.
O could there be such heaven short of death!

I felt that archer's tug below my heart.
You said you felt it too. A perfect match
it's true. We both fell crazy from the start,
but there in madness lies the double catch:

when once confessed to love, you're of sound mind,
which state precludes true love, I think you'll find.

Friday, 14 July 2017

Sonnet 1dot8

Here's one you may have read  before...

It's a sonnet? Crivvens!

Ok, so Wullie Shakes wrote 154 of these 14-line epics and I've hardly penned a dozen, but time is on my side - and yon bard is deid lang syne.

Sonnet 1dot8

Shall I compare her to a summer's day;
how would such measure fare? I remonstrate:
all prose conveys its meaning come what may,
whilst poems, let's say, are fine attempts to state,

sometimes relate, with metaphor and themes,
our higher selves, we human beings' grace,
yet every foot that taps this rhythm seems
to question why we'd limit half the race

to gloried days, give mummer's praise, assign
by that a trope that's toiled – I fear that's lame.
Unfailing fair and full of life she rhymes,
outshines all suns that set in blushing shame.

As long as she adorns this world you'll see,
far more than summers' days is she to me.

Friday, 7 July 2017

The vertigo of a kiss

The vertigo of a kiss

...and then we would embrace
on sidewalks – borne on air –
and osculate, a bonding,
self-adhesive Pair,

unmindful of the lookers
on – who maybe sit –
jealous of our clinching,
countersinking Fit.

Neither can resist the Want.
It is the Pull – expressed –
by primordial magnetics,
gifted to the Blessed.

When she ebbs, the Maelstrom quickens,
racing up – to This –
When she flows, it's like the current
in the Vertigo of a Kiss.