Sonnet - Flay

Poetry is oft self-flagellation,

Splitting flash and baring open soul,

And at once, the warrior’s proclamation,

A purge of toxic things, to spare the whole.

The poet is a primal, cunning thing, 

A savage, near-reptilian kind of beast,

Words her jagged teeth, and claws that sting,

Of purest, raw emotion she makes feast. 

Yet words can also be a curing balm,

Soothing, oft carousing to the heart;

Sensual, patient, exquisitely calm,

Most guarded inhibitions coaxed apart.

She, the poet: all these things and more, 

Flaying herself open to her core. 

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- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

Sonnet - Panther

Fiercest passion, so incendiary,

Simmering -- seething just beneath,

Behind steel blue eyes and lips of cherry;

Her gentle demeanor a mere sheath. 

Outwardly, the softest, gentlest smile,

A taste for quiet moments, tender sweet,

An innocence even guarded hearts beguile,

Cleverly, disguising smouldering heat.

Unleashed, she is a panther wild, exotic,

All pretense gone, her hunger must be sated,

Whoso she chooses, she devours, chaotic,

(Though he hardly needs to be persuaded).

Afterward, once curled up with her,

Soothing is her subtle, loving purr.

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.

Sonnet - Lotus

Struggling through the darkness, breathing mud,

Helpless as depression suffocates,

Reduced to emptiness, mere flesh and blood,

Desperate, near extinct, where hope abates.

Emerge from misery, my little love,

Things can't possibly stay at their worst,

Soon the rain will fall from sky above,

Let it give you strength and quench your thirst.

Reach, my friend, into the open air,

Fill your lungs, breathe the freshness deep,

Know the goodness that is waiting there,

Let it surround you, your spirit shall it keep.

Be not lost or frightened, precious one;

Bask in peaceful warmth from loving sun.

----

- ©Jackson Cambridge, 2015.