Uploaded February 2012 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
This sonnet shows just what an ideal length and form it is for capturing and examining the moment.
The sonnet deals with an irreducible quantity of existence, a molecule of life. (Don't google that, I just made it up, really I did. I'm far too pleased by it - but that will wear off soon.)
It has a parallel in the Haiku, which is 17 syllables, preferably all monosyllables, supposedly all that can be said in one breath, expressing one thought, metaphor or image. Here's one my mine:
"You said your love for me
was pure gold but it
would not pass the acid test"
The kaleidoscope is a Victorian curiosity that still exists as a toy, a ring of mirrors in a tube, that makes multiple patterns.
brewstersociety.com
I pinched the picture of the tray from here:
carolynslittlekitchen.blogspot.com/2011/05/giveaway-breakfast-tray.html
To climb these stairs again, bearing a tray,
Might be to find you pillowed with your books,
Your inventories listing gowns and frocks
As if preparing for a holiday.
Or, turning from the landing, I might find
My presence watched through your kaleidoscope,
A symmetry of husbands, each redesigned
In lovely forms of foresight, prayer and hope.
I climb these stairs a dozen times a day
And, by the open door, wait, looking in
At where you died. My hands become a tray
Offering me, my flesh, my soul, my skin.
Grief wrongs us so. I stand, and wait, and cry
For the absurd forgiveness, not knowing why.
This sonnet shows just what an ideal length and form it is for capturing and examining the moment.
The sonnet deals with an irreducible quantity of existence, a molecule of life. (Don't google that, I just made it up, really I did. I'm far too pleased by it - but that will wear off soon.)
It has a parallel in the Haiku, which is 17 syllables, preferably all monosyllables, supposedly all that can be said in one breath, expressing one thought, metaphor or image. Here's one my mine:
"You said your love for me
was pure gold but it
would not pass the acid test"
The kaleidoscope is a Victorian curiosity that still exists as a toy, a ring of mirrors in a tube, that makes multiple patterns.
brewstersociety.com
I pinched the picture of the tray from here:
carolynslittlekitchen.blogspot.com/2011/05/giveaway-breakfast-tray.html
To climb these stairs again, bearing a tray,
Might be to find you pillowed with your books,
Your inventories listing gowns and frocks
As if preparing for a holiday.
Or, turning from the landing, I might find
My presence watched through your kaleidoscope,
A symmetry of husbands, each redesigned
In lovely forms of foresight, prayer and hope.
I climb these stairs a dozen times a day
And, by the open door, wait, looking in
At where you died. My hands become a tray
Offering me, my flesh, my soul, my skin.
Grief wrongs us so. I stand, and wait, and cry
For the absurd forgiveness, not knowing why.
