Villanelle, a repetitive and rhyming poem of 19 lines… O, villanelle so beautiful! How you rhyme so well with “little bell”; your words amount to nineteen lines, a prime that works every time. Your two refrains permit no thefts or crime, yet throughout your end-rhymes repeat and count. O, villanelle so beautiful…

What’s eating me…? A meal worm eats me like a gourd of flesh, this slimy beast I dread; two weeks or more until my youthful heart that once was fresh has holes brimming with the plaque of its gore. Soft-bodied, legless, and writhing, this meal worm, like yeast that leavens a…

When your thoughts are OCD… For what reason this all-or-nothing thinking? Too hot, too cold, — but never in the middle I live, a victim of this ruthless riddle (that contradicts reply, and has me sinking)! This entropy of mind that’s got me drinking is never gray, but too much or…

Love is an expression of the Divine… When spirits meld in soulful intercourse, love’s so divine (and never so baneful)! Invite another in like a Trojan horse, and the experience will be painful. But if young couples make love midst nightly prayer and kneel at God’s altar of sacrifice, then heaven and…

A love as hot and tempting as rising dough, like fruit, is most ripe in the spring of life. So slake the hunger. Bite the apple! Though some will judge you, let it not cause you strife. “What role does Nature have for a coy virgin?” that, O chaste, young maiden…

A sonnet by one who identifies as like an outcast in society and in life… Like an outcast despised, I flee the heath; devoid of friend and mirth, I trek this earth and dwell alone from the time of my birth almost from my first draw of infant’s breath. Unloved…

When a bipolar sufferer takes a positive attitude with manic-depressive bipolar disorder disease… If I don’t sleep or choose to not take my med.’s in spite of my doctor’s orders, I hear sinister voices whispering in my ears; they unnerve me, because no one’s nearby (when I’m bipolar and failing…

Love is everlasting while joy transcends… To chase away despair, we love and we desire for a joyous affair; to love is being higher. And lest our heart’s well-fed, it will take another: a lover who’s well-bred, and not any other. Love goes on forever; it never ends or dies, or ceases…

A Spenserian sonnet… As the angelic hosts are swiftly soaring, and the scrolls of Creation are unfurling; ten-thousand cataracts are loudly roaring, whilst asteroids from outer space are hurling; and round the Sun the planets are whirling, and spinning, against the pull of gravity; the Milky Way galaxy goes swirling, and spiraling, into…