Two Pairs of Twice English Sonnets

sonnet (16.05.2006 22:42)

Cry of the wind sounds like invocation
Like exorcistical exercises
Over humanity & its societies
All working days and on vacations.

Product of infinite time rotations
Wind blows like breath without any care
Please never expire its way to nowhere
Like never expires the strength of creation.

Even in death let me find inspiration
In ugly stone temple in rack of the doom
Which never will stop nor tomorrow nor soon
I want to cognize maimed face of the friendship.

Like God's spirit looking in endless Abyss
My wind flies beneath the blazon of madness.

sonnet (17.05.2006 01:27)

I love this flower for its beautiful bud
For candid dark pupil between yellow lashes
This thing smells like spell of the happiness. But
It seems sometimes that it was scented by ashes

Of past & unfinished meaningless deals.
Oh, love has no viewable causal efflux
So, tasting such "easy" philosopher's meals
Remember that love - mental affection's access.

I love this nice flower like my first-born son
I've grown it with my bitter tears irrigation
It was my mistake. What was done that was done.
Now my hands are bounded with ropes of occasion.

This yellow-black flower became as a nest
For bumblebee of droning-like singleness.

sonnet (20.05.2006 01:51)

Usually bleeding place of my Sunsets
Full with transparent chaos of motions.
Buzzing officious horde of Emotions
Really, only the twirling Insects.

Their ruffling wings are warping my view,
Changing my mind & disgusting my knowledge
Cause they are tired from serving to storage
Of memories, so they're claiming for new.

They like all sweets because some of them - flies.
Some of them - ticks, so they thirsting for blood.
Few of emotions still look like a spot
Crushed or depressed by the will of time-dice.

Only mosquitoes now rising proboscies
Cause sun goes down gifting blood for their hordes.

sonnet (24.05.2006 02:51)

At last! pleasant night looking into my eyes
I'm craving for silence to listen the cries
Of underpaid thoughts. Night you're so outstanding,
Like my poor pure sense. Sense of misunderstanding.

Foolish plash of the light so incongruous with
My desire to fondle the night when it breathes
Through the split of my window desiccating my face.
Foolish plash of the light crushing down all my faith.

Spot of light you're so far. I adjure go away
Let me keep all my feeling in there normal state.
Night is wrong when I need only darkness to see
But the spot of the light spits on me and feels free.

Light is only the sigh of the fateful election.
I think life always only distorted reflection.