Archive for the sonnet Category

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Guard Dog in the Temple of the Goddess

Posted in sonnet with tags , , on December 25, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

The Goddess stirs within the temple deep

Candles flicker on the sun-burnished gong

Waked by the rasping of her naked feet

I observe the enigma of the throne

With their robes and candles, their cymbals and bells

Priests conform to scripture, and its motions

Down through the dark universe of her smell

I track along instinct and devotion

Attendant and vigilant to her needs

Obedient to her hands and what they hold

Faithful to her heart and what she loves

My beating heart and her unsandalled feet

The separate, susurrant, resonant poles

That span these sun-warmed, midnight temple stones.

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Ode to the XR6 Turbo

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags , , on December 4, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

The tyres shrieking their demand for traction

Where the road crests the brow of the mountain

Afternoon is a golden smelter in

The crucible of the speedometer

The ceramic squeal of heated rotors

As brakes negotiate with the motor

Stark black warnings screaming from yellow signs

Driven by rhythm of white centre line

A hare, erect and startled, stands roadside

Headlights fulminate in its amber eyes

One figure riveted as sentinel

To the flipside of the other’s vigil

Iron grey dusk rears up, pure reverie

As the turbo howls like a Valkyrie

…Because every bloke should write a poem about his car.

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The Sunless Side of Always

Posted in poetry, sonnet on September 29, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

I promise not to flinch to hate

I will embrace this gift of pain

I will not hide your sovereign light

Beneath this abject cloak of shame

I promise not to run and hide

Concealed in darkness of another

Nor pull your faults across my eyes

I’ll keep my word to stand and suffer

Night folds me in blackened wings

And paints a landscape sinister

Your beating heart, it echoes still

Through the tangle of my viscera

That rhythm scores these absent days

On the sunless side of always

And for those who prefer their sonnets in the traditional pentameter…

I promise that I’ll not flinch into hate

I will fully embrace this gift of pain

I will not turn and hide your sovereign light

Underneath this abject cloak of shame

I promise I’ll not run away and hide

Or curl up in darkness of another

I will not pull your faults across my eyes

I’ll keep my word that I’ll stand and suffer

As night enfolds me in its blackened wings

And paints a landscape chill and sinister

The beating of your heart, it echoes still

Through darkling tangle of my viscera

Its rhythm scores these silent, stagnant days

Encamped on the sunless side of always

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Blankness of a Clock Face

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags , , on August 30, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

Your stride faltered in hesitation as
The young man held the door to let you pass
His face eclipsed by yours – a brief reflection
His eyes stalled by yours within the glass

I’d hoped to catch this moment in the mirror
Rising from the lines upon my face
But read the time less from standing figures
Than from the way you spanned the empty space

This morning’s spectre of your fragrant heat
Attendant to your body’s pooling shadow
Trickles through the reef of cotton sheet as
A frigid breeze rattles the open window

I kiss your neck, then disappear from sight
You turn to face the weeping winter light

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Her Invisible Wings

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags on August 9, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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Within the lock the key creates a flashpoint

And the lambent pressure of her absence

Rolls back in waves from the open door

And mounts walls in cylinders of silence

 

Where once we sheltered in woven shadows

Drifting down from her invisible wings

And the electricity of orgasm

Glittered random and wild across her skin

 

I talk to her when I’m in the shower

At least, to the frequencies that linger

And after, standing before the mirror

Watching as my hunkered shadow glowers

Deep beneath the sheen of beaded silver

Draw her ciphered outline with a finger

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Shades of Lust and Hate, and Fear, and Love, and Grief

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags on June 8, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

 

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I woke beneath a wringing sheet last night

To phantom figures cast on midnight screens

They rose in opalescent sheets of light

Their trains were wet with rot from loathsome dreams

 

Morbid lights crept over the planes of flesh

That spun across those shifting, spectral screens

Sharp white incisors rhymed with stark white eyes

As invective rose like bile behind my teeth

 

Hopes and promises turned to screams and cries

Violence sticky with the shame beneath  

Powerless I lay to efface those shades

Of lust and hate, and fear, and love, and grief

 

Sunrise finds me bound with the shameful tie

That I can neither break nor can deny.

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(I think) She Might Be Crying

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags , on April 28, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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The floor to ceiling hotel window is

A lidless, depthless, staring midnight eye

The bed’s reflection breaks along its gaze

Sheets rolling in a long, disordered line

 

Face down, the weave of hair conceals her face

As tattered heart’s words tumble to the carpet

I am complicit: dumb, and blunt and hard

Plumbing a womb of shit and barren darkness

 

Later: scrutinised by bathroom light

Sitting naked with my head in hands

Marooned in a field of arid, empty white

Revealed to be the object that I am

 

Next door: drooling, drunk and stoned and slurring

Maybe, words (I think) she might be crying

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Girl in the Rain at the Airport, at Night

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags , , , on February 27, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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Headlights blossom across the rainswept screen

As the rain hammers on the roof of the cab

When the rabble parts she’s suddenly seen

Dragging her little suitcase through the pack

 

Her lips, her brows and soundless bell of hair

Are as memory drew them, just the same; but

Her eyes are mercurial ghosts that skim the glare

And glide beneath the dappled shadows of the rain

 

My apprehensive kiss flows into a crude embrace

And the sharp breath through her nose is frustration

As she turns, looks out the window to hide her face

And disappointment corrodes my elation

 

Whether it’s love or courage, I hardly know

But this can only be perfect if I let her go.

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Choke (2)

Posted in poetry, sonnet, violence against women with tags , , , on February 2, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle
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The sting in my hand from where I’ve struck her

The welt that’s swiftly rising on her thigh

The mark glaring through its suntanned lustre

The bolt of pain that taints her almond eye

The sweat that gathers in her dusky creases

The body that’s knotted like a rope

The sigh that’s strangled and abruptly ceases

The chin slick with saliva as she chokes

Blinking eyes that swim with sweat that’s searing

Relentless, I drive past lips, teeth and tongue

Her eyes bulge, mascara-smeared and teary

I feel the edge of teeth before I come

Gagging, she spits and tears a breath of air

Spent, sated and slaked, I can hardly care.

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Choke (1)

Posted in poetry, sonnet, violence against women with tags , , , on January 23, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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The sting in my hand from where I’ve struck her 

The welt that’s swiftly rising on her thigh 

The mark that’s glaring through its suntanned lustre 

The bolt of pain that taints her almond eye 

 

The sweat that gathers in dusky creases of 

The body that’s knotted like a rope 

The sigh that’s strangled and abruptly ceases 

The chin slick with saliva as she chokes 

 

Supine, the curtains of her belly part 

And she’s inhaling sharply through her nose 

Relentless, I drive up towards her heart 

While turning like a dragon’s embryo 

 

She gasps, and groans, ‘I feel you everywhere’

So I take hold and pull her silky hair. 

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