None Will Last

 

None of it will last, the poet said, 

contemplating a seascape, a loud 

sunset, a quiet tree. And she cried. 

This poet says: True. It won’t last, but it

is here now and I can love it now. It must 

go; I can’t stop that. Lord knows, I tried 

in my long lifetime, but those who might have 

prevented the decline of all this beauty, didn’t.

However, every moment is the past. This sea 

changes every second. Let alone every day, 

month, century …  This tree likewise; and often

the sunsets will soften or mute. And yes, even 

the whole world may collapse any minute. But 

I am here now, in my short life, and I love it.

The poet quoted in first line: Diane Seuss, in Frank.

Sharing this with dVerse, at Open Link Night #390.

The Virgin Queen

 

Why is it so surprising? Unbelievable; they had to

make up salacious rumours, disbelieving, making her

a cheat, a secret wanton – but not so extremely unnatural

as to deny the satisfaction of a male body inserted

between her royal thighs, into her female person.

She was wiser, I believe: having seen what men

may do to women who cede them the power

of possession. She, of all women, had the position

to retain power, supreme, but only if she never.

Also, perhaps, surrounded by schemers, such desire might kill 

a man she cared for. (Did she in truth care, as rumoured, for Tom Seymour, the tempter? It’s said he was handsome and charming, but 

we know she refused his early proposals of marriage.) In any case, 

virgin need not mean lacking: all power kept in her own hands.

(After revisiting material about the Tudor Queen Elizabeth, one of my favourite characters in history, and also reading Diane Seuss’s wonderful sonnets, which break nearly all the formal rules. I don't think this is quite a Seussian sonnet, which is characterised by very personal subject matter among other things, but it fits the wide variety of  'contemporary sonnets'.)