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Tag: sonnet

The End of the World: sonnet (English)

Published on July 8, 2025

Perhaps the world will end tomorrow night.
With so few sane in charge, that would make sense.
Besides, if the Cassandras have it right,
it’s way past time for sitting on the fence,

pretending that our waking up at last
can make a whit of difference to the tide.
What opportunity we had has surely passed.
Our only hope is to survive the ride.

And if the planet stops its steady spin,
it may be just what Mother Nature needs.
Once it’s called as a game no one can win,
who cares for a scorecard none can read?

If everything is ending, what’s the fuss?
There’s no more worry for the two of us.

08 JUL 2025

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A Soul in Cement: sonnet (sonetto rispetto)

Published on July 8, 2025

I will not live my whole life just to spite
one more imagined evil at my door,
some cloud determined to block out my light,
or leave my spirit destitute. No more.
Why be a tool for either left or right,
when a binary choice is still piss-poor?
You’re always wrong when you pick just one side,
and where you end depends on how you ride.

The truth that can be shown in white or black
is just one more illusion, just a trick
that gives you hope for something permanent.
Reality is change. Stop holding back.
Your life is not cement that will grow thick
and make your purpose more self-evident.

08 JUL 2025

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The Ears Have It: sonnet (envelope)

Published on July 8, 2025

Watch the eyes. It’s said they never lie,
and yet so much deception starts with seeing,
building illusions that soon end up being
so real to us we never question why
we do the things we do, and act as though
there is so little choice but wait to die,
imagining some future by-and-by
when life no longer simply tells us no.

Instead, we should rely more on the ears,
for what we hear brings in the world to us,
and even in an echo of a thing
its essence can be understood quite clear.
Behind all the cacophony and fuss,
there is a song we can all learn to sing.

08 Jul 2025

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The Fire Game: sonnet (Italian)

Published on July 8, 2025

The fire may turn to embers as we age,
its bright hot essence slowly turned to ash.
Our brave ideals disintegrate so fast,
and our youth’s passion melts to smoldering rage.
Perhaps that’s how we see beyond the cage
that we dismissed back then as balderdash,
imagining our noble, rebel clash
as more than just a temporary stage.

Now, hard against the wall, we find the flame
a gentler reminder of those days
when not to burn at both ends was a shame,
and looking out into the growing haze
we see there is no scoring in this game,
no matter which position someone plays.

08 Jul 2025

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Talking Heads: sonnet (Sicilian)

Published on July 7, 2025

Who in the world do we believe we are,
imagining our words alone suffice
to change the future’s course or shift our stars?
How much can you expect for that small price?
So little fuel will take us just so far.
What’s worth achieving takes some sacrifice;
the answer is never a lower bar,
unless your goal is a fool’s paradise.

There is no evolution of the mind
without some kind of action made out loud.
It’s not enough that a thing is conceived,
a mere equation with all terms defined.
So you can talk – no reason to be proud.
It’s only by your acts you are believed.

07 Jul 2025

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Left of How: English sonnet

Published on May 21, 2025

The world evolves without suspense or trick;
it is and it becomes, with no delay,
both seed and flower’s dried husk, derelict
from newborn babe within each single day.

What seems to be so permanent and cast
in stone, begins to crumble at its birth;
mere nothingness is all that seems to last –
and we know just exactly what that’s worth.

The past and future are both fantasy;
they live both in our minds, and not at all.
You may as well believe you are a tree
to think spring comes again after your fall.

And yet, life is worth living, here and now.
You’re given when and where; what’s left is how.

21 MAY 2025

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Cassandra’s Rejoinder

Published on April 3, 2025

What will we do? How will we carry on
when all around us hate and anger rage
and nothing seems to matter ’til it’s gone?
Who will we be here on the empty stage?

Where will we find the strength and will to fight
as enemies just multiply and grow?
Do our eyes dim, or is there just less light
by which to gather up I told you so’s?

Against such hopelessness what good are fists
except in vain pretense to preen and pose,
and then when danger actually exists
to hide away from any errant blows?

Let our illusions fall away and die,
lest we succumb and they alone survive.

03 APR 2025

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