Boning in the Bone Yard
By T. A. Fry
Come to us now, red maggots of passion.
Consume what we were, ’till there’s nothing left.
Devour our malaise with endless compassion.
Leave only lust, with your cleansing so deft.
Strip us bare, bring life to these ol’ bag-a-bones.
Stir carnal thoughts in our skeletal remains.
We’ll rattle and clack to a chorus of moans,
A fervor of desire in worm eaten brains.
Arise and fight, powerful God Eros.
Awake in fury and vanquish your foes.
Scorch the indifferent and the vapid morose.
Bathe them in fire from their head to their toes.
Bring back brave passion we’ll see with new eyes.
Our sockets empty, but for pupae of flies.
I am not one to interpret or offer criticism of my own poetry. The act of sharing my writing sufficiently in flagrante delicto. I wrote this sonnet early in my foray into writing sonnets several years ago, in a single early morning, the day before Halloween.
I have attached an mp3 of Camille Saint-Saëns – Danse Macabre below. Give it a listen. What comes to mind in relation to the music and Wratislaw’s Sonnet Macabre? Start a conversation, share your thoughts.
The Danse Macabre by Saint-Saëns.
Performed by Malmo Symphony Orchestra. Conducted by Marc Soustrot.
Sculptor: Giulio Monteverde
Sonnet Macabre
by Theodore Wratislaw (1871 – 1933)
I love you for the grief that lurks within
Your languid spirit, and because you wear
Corruption with a vague and childish air,
And with your beauty know the depths of sin;
Because shame cuts and holds you like a gin,
And virtue dies in you slain by despair,
Since evil has you tangled in its snare
And triumphs on the soul good cannot win.
I love you since you know remorse and tears,
And in your troubled loveliness appears
The spot of ancient crimes that writhe and hiss:
I love you for your hands that calm and bless,
The perfume of your sad and slow caress,
The avid poison of your subtle kiss.
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