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Sonnets  -  Book IV (Plus Supplement)

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"The Darkness of Oblivion"

Being A Cycle of Twelve Sonnets on the Theme of Death

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This of book sonnets is dedicated to 

David Ritchie
Preface

	In this collection of twelve sonnets the theme is ostensively on the subject of death. But any good title is ironic, mis-representing the main body of that text by being in the ambivalent position of being at the same time both that ‘text' and being the ‘title of that text', i.e., being both ‘the text’ and being 'about that text’. What then is the real subject of these sonnets? Nihilism - but in a positive form!? As the final couplet of the first sonnet implies we live, we pass away…

…each kissed second to face 
finds a joyous passing bare keeping pace….

	Other themes addressed are the feelings aroused in the change of season between the Autumn and Winter as experienced in a cold clime. Other themes addressed are change; immortality; fame; the writing of poetry itself and theological speculations about the nature of God, our relationship with the same and our own possible sense of divinity.

	In the writing of these twelve sonnets I have continued to experiment but with a return to a more orthodox sense of rhythm. 

	In the first sonnet I use couplets through out which gives me the two fine lines that essentially introduce this theme of a positive nihilism - that I exist in relative terms of reference but from an absolute perspective there is no absolute existence of the same (which gives the person both their existence to be and their freedom).

The fact that I no more exist embrace -
A fleeting leaf just sailing empty space

	In the second sonnet we slip into a state of despair in the undermining of a staged sense of self.

	In the third sonnet the fact that the sun shines above the gloom of Winter introduces a hierarchical way of seeing the world along with an allusion to a theological point of view through this image of a more powerful sun shinning above the world with stronger art, a theme explicitly introduced in the sixth sonnet.

	The fourth sonnet plays on a version of the seven deadly sins in the octet whilst in the sestet invites the reader to see the person as unique by virtue of the fact that no sour insect can scratch out lines of verse…? By scratch out I mean both the poet and their critic… or just the critic?

	The fifth sonnet tentatively introduces a religious note in the final couplet? This theological aspect is taken up in the next sonnet but with this sting in the tail that if God and/or the Gods are in the world then they must die too just as it is our fate to die. But why worry ourselves about this fact - in our survival, both God's and ours, let us rejoice in this nihilistic positivism. 

Who, subject to change, can escape this fate?
So enjoy those moments… when both survive..?!

	In the seventh sonnet our 'divinity' is now greatly discounted in what is essentially a reflection, or meditation, on the work of the artist, and by implication, the work of the poet.

	In sonnet number eight much of our existence is deemed as helpless, swept up on the currents of desire. But a fate that we should just enjoy through 'waiting'…

	The ninth sonnet re-writes a line from Shelley and gives us the title of this fourth book of sonnets - the oblivion of darkness… the final fate of all poetry… and the fate of all poets?

	Sonnet ten tells us the Self has no driver - the main theme this poetic vision of nihilism addresses.

	The penultimate sonnet explicitly retakes up this theme of nihilism while the last sonnet readdresses our theological theme, or sub-theme, with a set of water motifs in the octet and, in the sestet, a play on the words/word  a wake/awake along with an echo of Omar Khayyam. The second verse cancelling out these water images with a Buddhist allusion to the world on fire - fire and water then 'joining forces' in the image of wine. The consequence of a positive nihilism recognising the philosophical fact that there then can be, in an absolute sense, for the divine, no sin and that, as well, there can be no real death…

	…but I will let my reader evaluate whether this play of themes has been successful or not….

							Noël Tointon, Sydney, 26.6.02.

PS: Please note the numbering system is complicated by the fact that some of these sonnets, in the Supplements, are lifted from other books. The first sonnet in this fourth cycle has the following numbers after it: (1) [II.4.1/XII.1.29/ (131)]. (1) stands for the first sonnet in this cycle of twelve. It can be catalogued as Vol. II, Book 4, poem no. 1, or, where it was originally written as Vol. XII, Book 1, poem no 29. Then, as a sequential number in the non-chronological numbering of all sonnets and quazi-sonnet forms. N.

Sonnets  -  Book IV (Plus Supplement)

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"The Darkness of Oblivion"

Being A Cycle of Twelve Sonnets on the Theme of Death

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      The fraying tips of leaves are turning brown -
A dismal time of year when hope grows thin,
But take a better cheer from emerald moss
Resurrected on damper trees embossed.
With loss there’s gain, with death there’s life again -
But ever sad reflect “it’s no more mine”,
Yet share in glad delight though soon be lost
Than take pleasure alone suffered at cost.
      The fact that I no more exist embrace -
A fleeting leaf just sailing empty space
Beneath pale beds of mist while rays of sun
Awake a breathless morning winter dead…
      Yet joy, such joy, each kissed second to face
Finds a joyous passing bare keeping pace…. (1) [II.4.1/XII.1.29/ (131)]

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      Burnt maples trees glist'ning, glitter and spark;
On rustling ground our crackling steps incite
A swirling Persian carpet into flight; 
Damp, dewy breezes echo through the park; 
Flames flicker, dance around near naked bark
While thin branches, bejewelled, keep time in tight
Formation, swaying, nervous with delight;
Soon stripped, and raped as Winter finds its mark.
      In change of scene departed leaves will find
An exit in the dark, black soil of night
To thickly clot in rain like sticky blood
As all staged sense of self is undermined
And drowned in bland anonymity… despite
Forests of seedlings rising from the mud…. (2) [132]

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      'Tis Winter-time once more, the year's real end,
When the seasons unwind, find a madness
In furious winds and snows, and a sadness
As writ when inky black rains must descend.
Old natives too follow this downward trend
When branches, trunks sway bereft of gladness
As Antarctic sent squalls find the badness
In rotten wood that time can no more mend.
      So wracked and twisted, tortured all proud trees 
Must crack, then snap and with a thump dull pound
The forest floor, and wait… to fall apart!
Yet, take some cheer, even as puddles freeze,
In depths of stormy days will still be found
A beaming sun whose smile has stronger art…. (3) [133]

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      Flashy foliage is but a lusty show,
Like fashionable plumage on catwalk views,
Or envied fur soft dyed in rainbow hues,
Or textured silk hoarding a sunset glow,
But then, alas, from pride it falls below
To lie upon the cold, wet ground to fuse,
A rattling star that kills time singing blues
Out stealing death ‘pon earth's dirt-soiled pillow.
      Are we destined like Autumn leaves to die,
Partake no other fate than this sad plight,
A brutal fact we're worm fodder and curse,
“We are no more than dung that beetles ply”,
But, then, in thought more deep find sweet insight -
What sour insect can scratch out lines of verse…? (4) [134]

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      Are we no more then than a falling star -
A flash of light travelling silently,
Despite the puffed up chest out noisily
Gossiping, who could hear us from afar?
      Are we no more then than an ant worker
In some nest toiling forever busy;
More running round in circles speedily
Seeking meaning when none is true to par?
      Are we no more than a performing cloud
Dancing in the heavenly sky like masks
as if on a dim-lit stage finding tasks
Without much sense, mere actors falsely proud?
      …and yet as space orchestrates a temple
Ethereal choirs must find a time for people..!? (5) [135]

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      So then like me must God(s) be clods of earth
Produced from soil within this wondrous world,
From scattered dust so swept with wonder hurled
To form a mind and self that finds its worth
Within a realm whose fiery cosmic girth
Inflated left one space and time uncurled
Whilst other planes of being were shrivelled,
Confined as points in flashes of rebirth…
      As Immanent and Transcendent, Nowhere
In between, a Mystery incarnate,
Yet phenomenal, in this world alive…
Until our death takes both of us, I fear:
Who, subject to change, can escape this fate?
So enjoy those moments… when both survive..?! (6) [136]

	**********************

      Here I tremble and quake and choke on breath
All far too short thinking we’re not divine -
No gods are we with eons of sheer time 
To spend whilst deferring some far off death.
Alas, our work must speed lest left bereft
Of end be thought pointless, not genuine,
A task without purpose whose toll will chime
Those fewer hours of life to us be left.
      Who will thank us in sacrifice so bled,
Take a delight in labours of the heart
And find the measure of those works of art
That link the spirit with one lowly head..?
The gaze of Self in a mirror of light
Who sees its own reflection through insight…! (7) [137]

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      The world waddles pregnant with mindless thought,
All fluffed up and over blown, outcast,
Sent out to sea adrift, without a mast
A boat swept up on currents of desire caught.
So struggle all we can our life is fraught
With perils in ambush until, at last,
Out onto those final rocks be swept, blast
Apart to make no sense of what we ‘re taught?
      But enjoy then the ride, and please take note,
This manly craft has no crew, not one,
A pleasure trip lone sailing ‘neath a dome
Blue and golden, with sun and moon afloat,
And stars of fate delivering one home
If we’ld but wait, enjoy such blissful fun…! (8) [138]

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      O you perfect poets, published, in print
And on the lips of judges re-announced
Take quick your fine prizes in fame’s account
Registered, savour the famous moment
It cannot last, in time it’s just a hint
You once were a player beneath the font
Of creative wisdom whose right amount 
is like a drug that finds no appeasement.
      And then when back on planet Earth I ask
You paper fools to look down and tremble
Upon my works and know your fate the same 
as mine –the darkness of oblivion.
Writing poetry is a thankless task -
Endless ripples of resonant trouble…! (9) [139]

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      On Earth we workers toil, and spin and weave
Whether with hands or heads, with tools or pen
Or computer slave to dig us out when
Some endless cash equation needs our leave.
“Woe, all is work - all work is woe”, believe
even the rich in time set out to win
a moment not postponed, a dividend
filled with pleasure, seek to find such reprieve. 
      But have to laugh, why, the simple spider
Or itching flea can do no more than us
And we no more that the sugar glider
Or grumbling bumble bee whose whining fuss
Is like work enshrined, but, with this rider,
When deep engrossed know Self has no driver…! (10) [140]

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      From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust,
Our course of life reflects the way of stars
For that we be - cosmic garbage from wars,
Galactic savagery, nurseries gone bust…
And here with earth’s orbit perturbed by lust
The lunatic as quick as mercury mars
Their copy-book while those thought sane time tars
All inklings of memories gilt-edged with rust…
      In sweetest ecstasy the nihilist
Delights in worldly fabric without seams,
So woven with nothing between to seize/(free)…
But please fear not, for what does not exist
Naught lives nor dies no more than vivid dreams
On waking can like morning shadows freeze/(flee)…. (11) [141]

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      I am a mourning man, forever sad,
Each fleet second my God has died once more
‘Long with yours truly too though bare compare
In fickle wash of tide deep dreaming clad,
Asleep beneath the surf of reason mad -
A drunken mess still drowned in draughts of lore
Where men must live a life all filled with fear
While tyrants this theatre will prod and pad…
      Each sweet moment a wake to revel in
…a world on fire in one long party had,
Rejoice, take heart, in ecstasy be glad
And know in Thee that there can be no sin…
So let us drink this ruby wine aglow,
Thy death notice was exaggerated so…! (12) [142]

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Supplement

Miscellaneous Sonnets and Free Sonnets from Vol. 12…

Buddhas, Buddhas everywhere,
From the walls beaming down…

Buddhas, Buddhas here and there,
In the crowd looking profound…

Mere images, mere images,
Faces in cases inside and out…

Monks as exhibits, robes folded;
Spectators listening…

Catalogues in hand, photos aping
Aged sculptures looking tired…

Buddhas, Buddhas appearing;
Spectral actors in a play…

Budhhas, Buddhas everywhere
In a hall of mirrors… reflecting…. (XII.1.6) [143]

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      Pointed steeples once haunted the skyline
Now faithless people live in the high air
In twisted boxes piled like bland milkcrates
Watching the spectacle of the vista -
Watching others block the lost horizon;
No choice in colour, white is so passé;
Remember your compass because you pay
So much more for fresh air, sun and water…

      That homeless souls will have in abundance
Like the fountains trickling in the foyer
Set in concrete made marble in mood light
With other artworks mixing messages…

      You pay for what you get chasing bubbles -
Floating worlds wrapped in a clash of symbols …. (XII.1.17) [144]

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      The fraying tips of leaves are turning brown -
A dismal time of year when hope grows thin,
But take a better cheer from emerald moss
Resurrected on damper trees embossed.
With loss there’s gain, with death there’s life again -
But ever sad reflect “it’s no more mine”,
Yet share in glad delight though soon be lost
Than take pleasure alone suffered at cost.
      The fact that I no more exist embrace -
A fleeting leaf just sailing empty space
Beneath pale beds of mist while rays of sun
Awake a breathless morning winter dead…
      Yet joy, such joy, each kissed second to face
Finds a joyous passing bare keeping pace…. (29) 

(The above sonnet can be read with a following alternative final couplet as an erotic answer to the questions implied by the body of the poem.)

      Such joy, such joy, we touched, kissed face to face,
Find a joyous passing bare keeping pace…. (29a)
      From sleep entwined we did kiss face to face,
Found a joyous passing bare keeping pace…. (29b)
      Such joy as we touched then kissed face to face,
Find a joyous passing bare keeping pace…. (29c) 
      Such joy in joyful kissing face to face
Finds a joyous passing bare keeping pace…. (29d/ II.4.1) [131, 131a-131d]

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