César Eduardo - Poeta, Poète and Poet

César Eduardo, South and North American writer. Member of Sin Licencia. 
Host, traveller and poet.
Here´s some sonnets of him

 

Sonnet I

To Laura

Over by the seaside where the birch trees grow,

I count an exact decade left for seven centuries

since swift Italian glance ascended territories

and left its mark here on this plane below.

This time a West Coast essence brings her glow,

through sunset steady a wide array of reveries

awaits at heart’s doorstep for its corollaries,

all the while within such countenance I flow.

Today, the waxy wings of a New Icarus I fling,

the soul embodying an exhalation of destiny

along the shores of my dream abroad dispersed.

Eyes brighter than two sunrises the gods string

call me above again to exert severe mutiny,

leaving me in a Golden State of Mind immersed.

Sonnet II

Amongst the urban garden the sight fixes perplexed

Toward a towering structure of red and blue

So my mind’s blank space turns the flag true

For my mood to rejoice over this concrete annexed.

A solar return for me to be classically vexed!

Treading on sun strips I preyed for a gold hue

‘Til art piece’s signature number showed a clue

To our ages of appearance; frantically indexed.

I shall now dwell in twice the aube of commotion,

Disregarding the physicality of dope verse

For the complexity of our souls meshing in heaven.

I’ve seen those caves light up beyond obscure notion

While watching packs of seagulls fly in reverse

Amazed to have counted these laws to a big Seven.

Sonnet III

On a day when the herb’s smoke is elevated

the child beholds the swirls inside gazebo

as if contained by fresh capsules of placebo:

spectators glancing from a tree, aggravated.

‘Tis the season for wishes to be amalgamated

into one humongous dance for our retrieval

the sun has turned his back on us, primeval

until the sky’s darker background proliferated.

Today’s the day, human. Exchange your merits.

I long for obscurity divine beyond circumstance

to be projected on the æther of our cathedral.

Tonight is the night, human. Trade those berries.

This lamppost cackles with delight, for instance

as I jotted down a number for memory’s archival.

Sonnet IV

The tune in the background is of jazzy inheritance

Toward the end of a month’s subsiding cruelty

Among the reeds of my mind stashed with subtlety

For the dearest of birds to there nestle in reverence.

The chorus has left on my skin a mark of adherence

Deeper imprinted than Zeus’s bolt by its royalty

Largely omitted on MC’s team lists, for its novelty

Has always been noted as a sign for concrescence.

Sitting on terrace, I avert eyes to look for a locksmith

Instead I find only keys spread on the foreground

Of an intense late-nite dream casually approaching.

Consulting letters of sound as I swipe thru wordsmiths

On the hunt for a keyhole multidimensional, more round

Than Escher’s proverbial sphere now encroaching.

Sonnet V

Circe’s potion has turned me from animal to human

perpetuating the Four Winds’ ethereal covenant,

over the gray scale of my heart so adamant,

the garden ants crawl onto these corduroys, fuming.

Respect the beetle’s dung-boulder, thus resuming!

The cypresses and cedars, of the crowd participants

the foxes and the weasels, of our tribe recalcitrant,

shift-shape as they please ‘til tails start zooming,

while warthogs manifest with potential rudimentary,

knocking down all pails for a scrape of morsel

or searching for a dream besides the New World’s.

Whatever it is, I commend them for their commentary

on the state of the planet where we stand by proposal,

‘til the bird frees from its cage under nobody’s control.