This new sonnet riffs off Shakespeare’s 18th:
…for all those whose love is so fresh and strong it can seem unreal, here’s a sonnet for each and every one of us – Happy New Year!
migrant, writer, work in progress
This new sonnet riffs off Shakespeare’s 18th:
…for all those whose love is so fresh and strong it can seem unreal, here’s a sonnet for each and every one of us – Happy New Year!
Freeform sonnet and pic by Freddie Omm.
we humans stand alone and still in life until
love takes our hand and kisses us and helps us walk and talk
*
loveless, the passing hours through which all things must pass
stand still the days succeeding days stand still
and all is focused on ourselves alone
as if the universe herself is holding breath
*
we humans stand alone in life until
one day we find our love and it is good
while loving lasts all lives are rich in joy
and come together we all taste the fruits of heaven.
*
so can we forget a while that sometimes
a human stands alone in life until they fall apart in death
and make our wishes all come true with hope
and faith in love to keep us humans moving?
*
**
*
freddie omm
venice beach
september 2019
the imagination required to see
how life grows through a series of moments
*
(at once selfcontained, static and timeless
yet flying yes swarming into infinity)
*
like flocks of geese breaking from an amber
sunset into invisibility
*
like summer nights fading in september
flown into those endless twilights of eternity
*
where sensation is becoming to where
we run blindly into fresh horizons
fading as each sunrise into darkness
this warm fleeting intimacy we share
created from those moments is the essence
*
**
*
freddie omm
big sur
september 2019
not for me
those clouds that fluff the sky and
shift their shape like ghosts
*
haunting heaven,
inhabiting while whiting out
our snowy floating formless hopes –
*
not for me
the worn-in practised phrase
that targets
*
some soft weakness of our stricken hearts,
but always misses,
misses
*
tittle-tattling flattery that bigs
us up
yet disses, disses –
*
o not for me
those chilled and flaky
trout-lipped puppet tendernesses
*
nor for me
those strung-out wants that need yet never do,
they’ll never do:
*
not for me a life that’s lost for lack of you.
*
for me then what is left to make my day?
for me your hand and head and heart and kiss
*
that permeate
the mark of love which others miss,
miss
*
mashing us while world spins on around us in its feckless way:
*
but all those flakes
who flurry through the sky, who
flourish infelicitously
*
without a touch from you
to ground them cannot be
a thing for me.
*
**
*
omm
november 2018
Come to me in the blind and breathless passion of a night
Spent loving free full feral without thought
For morning – climactic darling hours that brought
Us here as one and yet so other, clasped tight
*
As here in bed between these warm and crumpled clinging sheets
We bask our bodies in the glow and gladdening glory of the sun
Each rapt and untamed moment which our lives have left to run
Each moment while in each of us our wild heartbeats
*
With that loping looping rhythm pulsing love
Outpacing secret cadences of time.
*
Charged with that beat, may tantric rhythmic rhyme
Flow through our coupling, energy-infused from high above
*
And let our inner powers grow and set us free:
May we become ourselves again, each time you come to me.
*
**
*
Omm
Every morning I sing – the birds above
And earth below move in those dawning musings –
Those twists and turns of dream and thought, those swings
Of mood that drive us off course when we love
*
But when we think we have the lives we hoped we’d live
We sometimes see ourselves as creatures that we feared we’d be –
Monsters of imagination, whom we
Fed because of what we dreamed they’d give –
*
We travelled far through countries strange, and stranger time
Wore out our wishes, blotted all that dreaming shaped in rhyme:
Our vital hopes were blurred – still, half-asleep –
Although throughout it all our vocal passions stirred: racing deep –
*
Till one fine day (like now) we wake, we rub our eyes and then
Realise we’re singing songs of morning once again.
*
**
*
Omm
May 2018
my new year’s message this year is this quaint little ditty. i was writing out the fair copy this morning when i was interrupted not by a man from porlock but a mother-in-law from neuss bearing presents. so i had to finish it on a fresh sheet of paper which i then stuck together so you can see that the interruption came at a pertinent point:
for those who cannot decipher my writing:
endings & beginnings
(in a winter’s garden)
BEGIN with the word that comes first, like light
from a twilit winter’s garden, when soft rainfalls
drop on dewy, leaf-pocked grass, showering bright
like a sudden flow of MOMENTS through the calls
of a goosequilled V tooting past, this starry night…
*
I sometimes try to freeze TIME, so it stops
and in an INSTANT feel and think all blend
and merge within MOMENTS—consciousness drops
like heaven’s rainfall in a winter garden—
inconsummate, unbegun, word without END,
*
but now SOMETIMES I forget such somethings,
and in your love I’ve found SEASONS to care
about the here, NOW, not some perfected place where
there are no more ENDINGS and BEGINNINGS.
freddie o
viersen, 29-31 december 2013
i have been tinkering with the poem, past lost lies, i put on this blog last week.
i remember when i started writing it, it was with the intention of writing a sonnet –
(and maybe it is fanciful but as i posted it, it did seem truncated – the truncation however, being somewhat apt to the subject, didnt jar too much in my head.)
but now having tinkered, it is duly a sonnet, and completes a procrastinated teenage impulse, a true embodiment of what it is about…
here’s the text:
past lost love (procrastination)
… i have spent my life procrastinating
each hour postponing the next, so sad
to be without the love i want so bad
as my past lost lies, insinuating…
a sense of wantonness into my head,
her warmth between my sheets –
– i remember
fucking and kissing in cold november…
the smell and feel of her fresh in my bed
and she so unexplored, driving me mad
with lust to be once again without lust
to lose her, let her go in timeless trust,
the best i had, or ever dreamed i had…
… but you today are all that time postponed
and past lost love deferred but not disowned…
freddie omm
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