What is Life?

Each heartbeat sings the rhythm of my thoughts:
 My thoughts of you, throughout the hours of day,
 Then comes the night, perhaps a dream of sorts —
 My innermost desires seek to play.
Mine felix culpa! Happy faults betray
 Desiderata — How I thirst for you!
 At times emotions well, such sorrows weigh
 So heavily; I know not what to do.
Cruel questions! May not answers misconstrue
 The truth that Future hides behind its door,
 And feigns to Present how it never knew
 What was to come; what Life had held in store.
But what is life if we could always see?
Complaints befall; no better would life be.
Ferrick Gray
© 2017

The Sonneteers

The Evolution of XIV

Everything changes over time, and so it is with XIV. This site will still contain all forms of structured poetry, but will now have a special section for the sonnets. Only three styles of sonnet will be posted in this section; Petrarchan, Shakespearean and Spenserian. For those of you who wish to try your hand at these styles, we will also be including tutorials and discussions.

Prepare for the sonnet revival!

Phoebe and the Wolf

 So long ago — So many years have passed
 Since Phoebe with her beauty, form and grace,
 Walked freely through the darkness that was cast
 Upon the forest dwellers. Dressed in lace
 And finery, each sought her sweet embrace
 And company to wile away the night —
 ’Twas such a pleasure in this somber place.
 She loved them all, and darkness would take flight
When Phoebe smiled. Her heart was true — so shone her light.
 Each night the forest nymphs would gather round
 And seat themselves ‘pon anything they may
 Desiring to indulge in sight and sound,
 To listen to her stories — what she’d say,
 Each mesmerized and none would ever stray —
 They’d hang upon each word from tender lips
 Until the creeping rays of breaking day.
 Another in the darkness, sits and sips
Her words to quench his thirst — sweet honeyed nectar drips.
 The wolf, he loved young Phoebe with a heart
 That burned with passion — How he wanted her,
 And felt so lonely when she would depart,
 To wait throughout the day and so incur
 The wrath that filled his heart as if it were
 A dagger, cold and sharp, to twist and tear
 With ev’ry aching pulse, thus hate would stir.
 But was it love or lust? He didn’t care —
He only knew, this pain, was more than he could bear.
 Then came the night as Phoebe made her way,
 With beauty, form and grace that kissed the night;
 There sate the wolf, who eyed her as his prey
 And bared his teeth, he snarled — she stopped in fright,
 As want dripped from his mouth. He wouldn’t fight
 His primal urge to kill this maiden fair
 And took her in his jaws. Her life — His bite.
 But was it love or lust? He didn’t care —
He only knew, this pain, was more than he could bear.
 Her blood ran free as Heaven cried in pain,
 And angels swift descend to hallowed ground.
 The wolf, he backs away from her he’d slain —
 His eyes afire, in silence stood. No sound
 Was uttered as they bathed this beauty crowned,
 To wash away the stain of hate despite
 His love for her? In jealousy he drowned!
 She loved them all, and darkness would take flight
When Phoebe smiled. Her heart was true — so shone her light.
 The wolf now walks in dark, but Phoebe shines,
 And nymphs that sat with her, from he now flee,
 For fear that death will come whene’er he pines,
 But unbeknown to him, the light they see —
 The moon so bright, she keeps their company
 For this is Phoebe, Heaven’s sainted maid
 Who looks upon the forest dwellers free.
 The wolf, he realizes — want has paid
A price and bays the waning moon — his love mislaid.
Ferrick Gray
© 2016

A love so rare…

Across the sea of green, as waves crash low
Beneath the canopy of powered blue, 
Tides pull upon my soul in ebb and flow,
Sands glisten gold, to cast a glittered hue.
The sea breeze blows like sighs, in thoughts of you,
Salt wells upon my skin, in misty cries,
Sad eyes untouched by smiles, as tears ensue,
Forgotten memories; that once were highs
Replaced by dreams that float below grey skies,
Where once hope drifted ‘pon the lips I kissed.
I’m lost to darkness wishing for sunrise,
A starless sky hangs in each moment missed.
 O how my heart has lost its will to dare
 As I concede I’ve lost a love so rare.
©Elusive Me 

Life’s Posey

If Life should ever close her knowing eyes;
 Would Death erase her codicil of light?
 Could Life give o’r to Death in silent cries
 Of helplessness — as day becomes the night?
Oft times there runs a melancholic blight
 To sap the vigor of a pleasant day —
 What’s in a name? To know by any hight
 These many wretched thoughts that find their way.
Yet in the dark recesses — Life’s bouquet?
 A nosegay gathered from our simple past,
 Reminds us in our age, the need to play:
 To live, enjoy; what’s now can never last.
Will you, this tiny posy’s scent adore?
 Or seek the stench of false blooms evermore.
Ferrick Gray
© 2017