By: Steve Lightbody

Sonnet no. 16

In fire’s dancing glow the summer shines
When sun is down and Bella Luna laughs
With silver warmth which dries the blind-man’s bath
In which we bathe when Earth to night inclines.
When days grow long at solstice’s coming turn
And morning chill is all that’s left of Spring
We find the sound of God’s cathedral ring
The praise of which brings joy to deadman’s urn.

For in creation’s rhythm, God’s own breath
Summer’s advent springs forth in the breast
The gratitude of one who robbed of means
When stranger gives a penance for the thief
And so we sit in fire’s dancing glow
To drink the wine from which our God does flow.

Shards of Glass

A Gigolo

A gigolo ran the widow’s hall,
All the way to her heart.
He found a faded glass
Reflecting back
His darkness.

Goodbye

Leaving the house, she wore my boots,
Winter biting at the door.
White on white, black on black,
Footprints leading
To eternity.

Distance

“Oklahoma is beauty, I’ve never seen”
I said to her through the phone
As she walks the streets of Paris
Words enter the empty space
To bounce around without root.

The Sun In My Sky

The sun in my sky is a copper hue
Why should I let it shine gold?

Cerulean skies with plastic lament
And clouds that pine as lovers
are beauty enough…

Golden shine will blind those who stare,
so copper is fine, by me. 

The Execution

Guilty.

A word which hangs
In clinging tone,
As jury fades from sight.

The gallows they are calling
A gentle hug they’ll bring

The gavel slammed
Like gunfire and
Smoke arose
Like ash.

A child watches on.
A child watches on.

The moved him forth —
The barely-man,
The one who did the crime.
He seemed to them
More like a beast
Who wasn’t worth a dime.

The gallows they are calling,
A gentle hug they’ll bring

A cloth is on his face
His body swarms like bees.
They haven’t even kicked the box,
Yet he is suffering.

The blind declare it justice:
Is it justice?
Is it just?
Her mother thinks so —
Does his?

A child watches on.
A child watches on.

Finally, they hung him.
He writhed.
He stopped,
And at last he looked serene. 

The Days of Erudition

Gone are the days of erudition
When man saw himself as a mind
When impulse was tempered,
The heart contained.
When reason ruled the roost.

They live as beasts
We live as machines
And both think themselves
a man.

We labor with hands caked callous
Like a divorcée’s heart.
We sit and think about ourselves
Like a sinner who thinks he’s a saint —
At least the sinner does the work.

We lived with Sophia by the sea
Now we live by the sea
We loved Sophia by that sea
Now we only love the sea.

We saw a sphinx with owl’s heard
And the body of a beast.
He spoke to us these horrid words:
“Sit and let me think,
Think for you
You who are tied
Tired from the machinations
Of a practiced mind.”

Gone are the days of erudition
When man saw himself as a mind
When impulse was tempered,
The heart contained
When reason ruled the roost.

And since, we’re no better,
Nor worse.