As I mentioned at the start of the month, I’m doing a little #SeptemberSonnet challenge for myself and writing one sonnet per day. A few of these sonnets are being set aside for my subscribers on Patreon (now closed) for this month’s collections, but the others I’m going to be sharing here on my blog. The first two I wrote this month are in this original post; here are five more. Some are the traditional sonnet form, while others are “haiku sonnets” (four haikus + a couplet).
Half of thirty-six,
Is considered an adult.
But I’m not grown up.
Perhaps it’s because
When the world shifts at eighteen
Time stops making sense.
For some, time stopped.
For the rest, we carry on.
And time keeps passing.
Is there a moment
When you know childhood ends?
Is it gone for good?
Maybe this is being grown.
Or the definition changed.
The most delicious truth about fresh, salty tears
Is that every type has a slightly different taste.
It’s a fine-tuned palate you develop through your years,
Like discerning the presence of anchovy paste.
The tears we taste early, and often, when we’re young
Are the tears of sadness, confusion, and pain.
The tears when we’re scraped, stubbed, or stung
The droplets are salty, but also quite plain.
Then there are happy tears, so surprising and sweet,
The droplets are smaller, but just as strong.
Frustrated tears pack bite and some heat,
And like angry tears, they don’t stay as long.
The thing about tears is they’re never unripe.
So let them fall free, and taste each unique type.
Most call it Autumn.
We call it fire season.
It arrives with dread.
As leaves turn colors
On trees across the country,
Here, bark is scorched.
We turn on alerts
And watch evacuations
Wondering who’s next.
Sometimes we see flames
Or just sit and smell the smoke
Far, but still too close.
This is the world we accept
To live in California.
A Cleansing Breath
Breath is taken for granted too often
As a necessity, an act without any thought
But pausing and allowing focus to soften
Shows more what breath is, than what it’s not
While yes, breathing can happen without force,
Attentiveness gives its purpose new life.
Sending positive energy on a deliberate course
Focus makes possibilities rife.
Breathe in now, for a count of four
And hold the breath in the space in your chest,
Then slowly release, longer counts than before,
Feeling your nerve endings find peace and rest.
For breath is a tool used to cleanse and renew,
By turning it into an active thing to do.
The Surprising Storm
The most troubling thing about storms is the way
They roll in out of nowhere, pushed by an unseen wind
Suddenly clouding and threatening a day
That was previously bright, now may be singed.
And as the clouds threaten to complete consume
The perception of where the day was going to lie
It can be a struggle to remember, and to resume,
Living with the knowledge of a persistent blue sky
For the serene sky still exists above the storm
Even if it’s disguised amidst the darkness and rain
And it’s good to distance the clouds from the norm
To remember there’s peace, and not constant pain
So as the lightning flashes and thunder roars through
Breathe deep, and wait for the chaos to subdue.