Sonnets Here, In-House

Copperfox said:
Early in our short married life, Jan and I saw the nature movie "March of the Penguins." It was after this that I began calling Jan "my penguin," meaning it as high praise, because--like my Jan--penguins have strong parental instincts, and are awesomely cute and lovable.
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I saw that movie when it was in theaters, and really liked it! That really is a cute and meaningful thing to call her. :)
 
Yes; and God Himself made use of it for my consolation after He called Jan away to Aslan's Country. Shortly after her passing, I began seeing pictures of, and references to, penguins EVERYWHERE. For instance, on a visit to one of Jan's married daughters, I pulled into a gas station, and the car in front of me had a license plate that bore a version of the WORD "penguin!" All this was one of God's ways of assuring me that MY penguin was now HIS penguin, very much alive Up There.
 
Those are good. I especially like this one; it's one of my very favorites. The ending reminded me of this song:
The greatest friend you'll ever find is on a lonely mountain,
The highest high you'll ever reach is when you kneel to pray,
The brightest light you'll ever see is when you close your eyes.
Oh, Lord, You are my first love, at last I realize.

Copperfox said:
To "Lucy But Taller,"
While She Matures


If you rose in a big hot-air balloon,
Its bag would not be all that would inflate.
The world around would grow in width, and soon
Your line of sight would reach another state.

More houses, trees and highways would appear;
The layout of a city would make sense;
Odd routes for driving would at last be clear;
And you would grasp what once was too immense.

To climb in age is like that airship flight:
Once rising higher than short-range concerns,
Each year, each month in fact, will bring more light--
If you'll remember that, while Earth still turns,

The narrow way gives you the broadest sight,
And having roots ensures the highest flight.
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To CyberCat


In old-time films, the bookworm type of girl
Would suddenly let down her hair, whereon
All men beholding her were in a whirl;
Her beauty leaped forth like a tropic dawn.

You're studious enough that your good looks
Could spring this type of pleasant ambush too.
I don't suggest that you abandon books,
But maybe let the world see more of you.

For self-protecting caution there's a place,
But mind that life itself is not your fear.
When things worked out for me to see your face,
That was my pleasure, and I am sincere.

Be seen! Be known! I mustn't say too much;
But someone just might want to get in touch.

 
First Sonnet for the Faith

A fan of Dostoevsky ought to see
What Rodion Raskolnikov was shown:
It was precisely his autonomy,
His choosing to believe that he alone

Could redefine the right and wrong, that left
Him rudderless. That's why Raskolnikov
Thought he was authorized to put to death
Two helpless women. Thus he was cut off

From conscience and from wisdom, till he dreamed
Of how men just like him could wreck the world;
He had to yield himself to be redeemed,
Helped in this by a so-called fallen girl.

His trust in self trapped him inside a curse
Which only faith in Jesus could reverse.
 
Second Sonnet for the Faith


Before my Mary's cancer was revealed,
We used to go to fairgrounds for art shows.
We bought things as they randomly appealed,
Then stashed them somewhere, like forgotten clothes.

When Mary died, God sent blue butterflies
Which flew near me in most uncommon ways,
As if to say, "Your love's in Paradise."
This was in summer; then, in autumn days,

I found an art-show purchase I'd not seen
Or thought of since before my loss; it bore
Blue butterflies! I saw that this had been
Prepared by God, those many months before,

To tell me things were no blind accident,
And consolations came by His intent.
 
Third Sonnet for the Faith


Upon the day God took dear Janalee,
And on the two days following, although
I consciously resisted fantasy,
I clearly heard my Jan's voice calling, "Joe!"

Refusing to inflate this into more
Than memory, I nonetheless took heed,
In case an explanation was in store
To reconcile that sound with faith and creed.

An e-mail from a Christian lady came,
Which pointed out Isaiah forty-three,
Where God said He had CALLED TO US BY NAME;
This gave sense to my hearing Janalee.

On reading this, my sweetheart's voice fell still,
For it had done its work within God's will.

= = = = = = = = = =

(A relevant fact, which I was unable to fit into this poem, is that the pastor's wife who sent that e-mail DID NOT KNOW that I was hearing my name called.)
 
Fourth Sonnet for the Faith


One winter long ago, my Mary went
With female friends up to Vermont to ski.
There followed a divinely-staged event,
Which kept her safe, so someday she'd meet me.

Bound home along a country road at night,
They drove into a snowbank, and were stuck.
No traffic, homes or people were in sight;
But they were helped by something more than luck.

A man came up--where from, they could not see--
And silently dug all the snow away.
He left them once their car was safely free;
Through all this, Mary found no words to say.

For all her days, she talked about that man;
And when she passed, perhaps he took her hand.
 
I love possible miracle stories!
Something like that happened to me once... but I don't think I have the focus right now to turn it into a poem. Thanks for sharing
 
To Celebrilomiel

A "Let there be" from God has more effect
Than "Let it be" from Beatles who are fools;
On this you would agree, for you respect
The Word of God as well as writing rules.

I welcome you, Celebrilomiel,
Big sister of Miss Reepicheep! If you
Have half her sweetness, you can blend it well
With your desire to fight for what is true.

What's more, a Chestertonian--how grand!
Perhaps you've seen where he said only those
Who honor home and kinship can withstand
A governmental tyranny that grows.

While freedom yet remains, make use of words,
And be found faithful when Our Lord returns.


(Yes, that was an assonance--deal with it!)​
 
If it makes you feel any better, Span-Inq, my point was not that the particular song "Let It Be" was bad, but that the Beatles as men and as thinkers have been colossally overrated.
 
To Sonata Moonlight


Today, a fairy with a preschool son
Was with me at a picnic in a park,
And long before the summer day went dark,
Sonata got important business done.

Friends from the mortal realm she entertained;
I helped in this by singing Russian tunes.
Sonata then discussed the mystic runes
With fairy-folk, who listened well and gained

Appreciation for Sonata's heart.
Meanwhile, the little boy cheered up the scene
With his obsession for Lightning McQueen,
And I, as Uncle Joe, performed my part

With horsey-rides for Jonny. In the end,
I rode off, waving to my fairy friend.
 
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