The Sonnets of Scott Ennis

Posted By Scott on June 27, 2009

Such stones exist for skipping from the shore
which shaped them by its rough and gentle tide,
where form and polish build to this rapport
a father and his son stand side by side.
They search among the millions for one stone,
perfection, or as near as it can be.
The father notes how fast the boy has grown;
the son is lost in searching reverie.
Then suddenly the perfect stone appears.
The father picks it up; the son approves
the smoothness of a thousand smoothing years,
and with a fluid fling, how swift it moves.
Three skips create their ripples with each kiss;
the stone slips back into the blue abyss.

(more…)

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Posted By Scott on June 27, 2009

My son, there is a star men use to guide
their ships when other compasses have failed.
My son, there is a maker who’s supplied
the stars by which such men have often sailed.
There is a shore to every endless sea,
a harbor from each never-ending storm.
There is a place where you are meant to be;
in cold and dark, keep faith in light and warm.
In time a voice within will whisper peace
to guide you like a light in heaven’s vast
expanse of possibilities, release
your spirit into present, future, past.
When time and truth converge you will be one
who’s found his heart, my flesh and blood, my son.

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Tags: blessing, Blood, Father, Flesh, Light, maker, sail, Son, Star, universe

Posted By Scott on June 26, 2009

The stars are all too far away to touch.
What god would make a universe so vast?
What lesson to be learned? That life is much
too distant in the future or the past?
The closest stars seem just within my reach;
the closest stars are still too far away.
I only want to give a kiss to each;
I only want to find some way to stay.
But which of us has ever touched a star,
or even stretched to touch the loving sky?
We seal our little lights inside a jar,
and one by one the lights begin to die.
To god, the universe is just a spark;
to me, a point of light, a stretch of dark.
(more…)

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Tags: Dark, God, Kiss, Light, Star, stretch

Posted By Scott on June 20, 2009

. . . becomes the softest sediment below
the coldest lake of tears as pure as ice
when sanity has nowhere left to go
and drowning is the ultimate device
of metaphoric words which wait, and wait
in solitude of grubby notebook sheets,
the stillness of a rescuer too late:
emotionless, unfathomed, more complete.
She holds my hand as if it were divine
and strokes the skin above my solemn wrist
to signify her yet unuttered “mine”
as I succumb with just the slightest twist,
as rings of water ripple through the scene
while neither lover knows what loving means.

Category: Sonnets | 2 Comments »
Tags: Cold, Lake, Love, Water

Posted By Scott on June 14, 2009

I’m strong when I am pushing back the road
beneath my feet, along my chosen course.
My legs engage by trying to explode
along the muscles channeling their force.
I’m strong.  I feel the metal in my veins;
my heart’s a forge, my pulse a tempered beat,
where iron is refined and what remains
is strength of will to match unyielding heat.
I’m strong enough to run until I feel
the surge of one last lap before I’m done,
that makes me draw my breath like sharpened steel
and run the lap, and then another one.
And though I doubt there’s any race too long,
I have no doubts at all that I am strong.

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Tags: Running, Strength

Posted By Scott on May 28, 2009

It’s life; it’s not some sonnet I compose.
Ironic though, that words align in song
as easily as lying, I suppose.
Still, lies arranged in poems could belong . . .
unless the truth is deeper than the lines,
unless the soul is water in a well,
and poetry, the bucket that defines
the liquid verses drawn to quench and quell
the thirst for love that parches word and voice,
the love of words that sing a lying tune
of depth and sweetness, freedom in a choice
that’s pre-determined; poems end too soon.
But life is not some sonnet to be drawn
from any well while love still lingers on.

Category: Love Sonnets, Sonnets | 3 Comments »
Tags: lies, Life, Love, Truth, Water, well

Posted By Scott on May 10, 2009

The day is green and flowers mark the dawn;
I feel her rising love, I feel her grace.
The warmth of dreams I’ve dreamed still linger on;
they linger like the smile upon her face.
And as she folds her hands around her child,
and sings to him and rocks him back to sleep,
I feel the dream upon which she has smiled
the dream of love and promises she’ll keep:
of bearing life in Spring, of love in Fall,
of giving of herself and giving more,
of softness and of strength surrounding all,
of home that welcomes love within its door.
My dream, a home upon which she has smiled,
with love for her, the Mother of my child.

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Tags: Beauty, Child, Dream, Love, Motherhood, Spring

Posted By Scott on May 6, 2009

Lean back and let me choose another word
from thousands I could choose to warm your cheek.
Ten thousand times my meanings are deferred
into my arms around you as I speak
with poetry of pressing closer still.
A terrifying, intimate embrace
relaxes my locution and my will;
you turn to kiss the silence of my face.
This place was just a table, moved last year
to this secluded, arbitrary beach,
but now that you and I are sitting here
it serves to place our words within our reach.
Lean back into the arms of my intent,
beyond ten thousand words and all they meant.

Category: Sonnets | 2 Comments »
Tags: Beach, embrace, Kiss, Poetry, Words

Posted By Scott on April 24, 2009

The road becomes a passage of the wills
of twenty-thousand hearts. The strength to run
from Hopkinton, through Wellesley, Newton’s hills,
is paved into the legs of everyone
who qualifies determination’s pace.
The road, which may seem common to the crowd,
today exists for nothing but the race,
and commonness today is disallowed.
I join the road of wills, of hearts, of strength,
anticipating every mile’s toll
of sweat.  I am committed to the length
which quantifies the measure of my goal:
to finish strong in Boston where my pride
will feel the road with every single stride.

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Tags: Boston, goal, marathon, Run, Running, Strength, stride, sweat

Posted By Scott on April 21, 2009

The waves insist on urging me along
Nantasket Beach, against the blowing sands,
without reprieve, without a siren song.
The wind is more insistent; she demands
my tears in horizontal tracks. My legs
ignore insistent waves, insistent wind.
I listen to the strand which almost begs
to pull me further, faster; I rescind
my ignorance of oceans and their might.
My memories of running on the beach
when I was young return to join my flight
across the dunes and places where I reach
inside my strength, like waves that urge me on;
I run until the wind and tears are gone.

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Tags: Beach, Ocean, Run, Running, Sand, Tears, Wind

Posted By Scott on April 5, 2009

There’s time for one more glass and then one more
as time begins to fade into the taste
of complicated sweetness which we pour
in timelessness, devoid of bitter haste.
Aromas gather slowly in the dim
quintessence of the presence of the thought
of lips that linger lightly on the brim
of sweetness and the essences now caught:
the musk of sunlight captured in the skin
of fruit from fertile vineyards far away,
the tang of inspiration from within
a bottled soul, consumed like night by day.
The soft and subtle glow of nurtured bliss
compels her to release a Riesling kiss.

Category: Sonnets | 1 Comment »
Tags: Bliss, fruit, Kiss, riesling, sweet, Wine

Posted By Scott on April 5, 2009

Let’s float inside this cup of lukewarm tea,
pretend that we’re in love and kiss for hours.
I’ll sing to you and let you sing to me;
add sugar and perhaps I’ll bring you flowers.
I love the pinkish petals of the rose
on that ceramic wall behind your back.
Stay just below the rim so no one knows.
The tea is leaking slowly; there’s a crack.
Stand up and touch the bottom with your feet,
the party’s over; tea is everywhere.
I thought we had it all; we were complete,
but now we’re simply fools with matted hair.
Don’t leave my darling, leaves must still be read.
Come join me for some coffee now instead.

Category: Love Sonnets, Sonnets | 1 Comment »
Tags: Flowers, Kiss, Love, prufrock, Sing, sugar, Tea, toast

Posted By Scott on April 4, 2009

I sense the sheen which glistens on the street,
the path that pulls my spirit through the dark.
Reflections of the bottoms of my feet
form momentary ripples where they mark
the light of timeless memories of grace,
deserving of impressions deeper still
than anything my memories replace
with lightness which my feet and legs fulfill.
I sense the time it takes to press and glide
against reflections, silent as the moon,
which lay upon the mirror where I stride,
revealed to morning reverie too soon.
I sense the sheen again before I run
beyond the dawn into the morning sun.

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Tags: Dark, dawn, Dream, feet, Memories, Reverie, ripples, Run, runner, Running

Posted By Scott on April 3, 2009

The strength to walk away is like a gift
of snakes or stones bestowed on any child
who asks for fish or bread.  The pillars shift;
Delilah’s shears were never so defiled
as when you walked away with every word
of faith, with every psalm I ever wrote.
I built on sandy ground, my sight obscured
by every solid beam and dusty mote.
You kissed me for a bag of silver coins
before you knew which prophets I believed.
You tied a girdle firmly ’round your loins;
immaculate, you left, and then conceived.
You’re wise to build your house on solid ground,
and I’m the sheep that’s lost and never found.

Category: Sonnets | 1 Comment »
Tags: bible, chapter, Dust, Fool, gift, Kiss, Leaving, Loss, Love, Sand, verse

Posted By Scott on April 1, 2009

It pulls me from within, toward center mass
where heaviness resides in purest form.
For some the weight will come then simply pass;
for me it seems to be a steady norm.
I think my lightness used to be a kite
my dad would help me fly when he came home
from sea. I used to wake up in the night
from dreams, when he was gone.  I was alone
with gravity that pulled me from the swings
or monkey bars, toward center mass, the source
of heaviness and darker, unknown things
which, as a child, frightened me of course.
But now that I’m a man, I’m filled with joy
to look below and see the fallen boy.

Category: Sonnets | 1 Comment »
Tags: Boy, dad, Dark, Dreams, Fall, frightened, heaviness, Night

Posted By Scott on March 30, 2009

Her firm determination, built from years
and miles of running fast, and faster still,
reflects the sum of all her sweat, her tears,
of every lap, up every grueling hill.
Her legs are lean and stronger than each race
she wins.  Her legs are stronger with each stride
she takes in her determination’s pace;
her will to run is born from deep inside.
Inside, and nestled deep within her soul,
her legs are young and light; her memory
of running fast down hills, without control
is where her will to run is wild and free.
And though her focus helps her win each prize,
the running girl still shines within her eyes.

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Tags: Eyes, Girl, hill, Run, runner, Running, Soul, Strong, Youth

Posted By Scott on March 30, 2009

This rain absolves my sweat and seals my skin
with cool and pleasant temporary grace.
As I continue reaching deep within,
reprieve becomes the moisture on my face.
My legs are washed, anointed, as I run
by rivulets of clear and healing rain.
Each raindrop is a spirit, and each one
absorbs the smallest facet of my pain.
This storm proceeds, a catalyst of speed
in drenching curtains, pushing me to fly
beyond cathartic cadences; I need
the rain to mask the tears that I will cry.
This rain commingles with my sweat, my tears
and lets me run beyond my deepest fears.

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Tags: Grace, Rain, Run, Running, speed, Storm, sweat

Posted By Scott on March 29, 2009

The words are new to him and new to me
but bonded by emotion there’s rapport.
I wish that I could touch, could hold, could see;
I wish to give him something, something more
than wishes and the distant touch of voice.
But overwhelming happiness for now
is in the words we share as we rejoice,
in every sound that’s uttered.  I allow
my heart to burst wide open and embrace
the memories of touch; I held, I saw
his hand, his kiss, his happy, laughing face.
Forever is a well from which I’ll draw
the memories of then and now, the love
within the words the words remind me of.

Category: Sonnets | 1 Comment »
Tags: Happy, Joy, Kiss, Love, Rapport, Voice, Words

Posted By Scott on March 29, 2009

The blood behind my eyes begins to turn
perception from solidity to trance
by pressing on receptors of concern
to where I find my present circumstance.
Escape becomes a passageway of nerves
upon which my subconscious thoughts depart
from fissures in the cavernous reserves
of psyche far below my memory’s heart.
To juxtapose my memory with now
creates an incongruity at best;
at worst, it drags a knife across my brow
before it pushes slowly through my chest.
The pressure is released by stabbing deep,
and anti-climax drains me into sleep.

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Tags: Blood, depression, escape, knife, memory, psyche, Trance, Vision

Posted By Scott on March 25, 2009

There is no question that the wind is strong
and heavy as it pushes back my best
attempts at moving forward.  What is wrong
with stopping now, forever?  Life at rest
is not the life I choose.  So fuck the wind,
and fuck the heavy strength of moving air.
I also move, but by my will ascend;
the wind’s oblivious to risk, to dare.
It mocks in one direction, so I turn
and place it’s mockery against my back.
I have the choice to simply coast or burn
this tailwind down a hill of blurring black.
My rising strength is in my will, my mind,
and there is strength within me, undefined.

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Tags: Choice, cycling, rest, Strength, will, Wind

Posted By Scott on March 24, 2009

I know the shadowed path; I feel the ground
like knowing there’s a sun below the line
of morning.  With the darkness comes the sound
of hesitated motion.  I divine
the path by intuition, mixed with luck.
My faith is firm in nothing but my heart
and memories of roots my feet have struck.
I face the faceless darkness as I start,
aware the only metaphor for dark
is pain; I hold the metaphor at bay.
I run the measured miles of the park,
until the gods of twilight wake the day.
Then free to move within the blessed light,
I catch my breath and run with all my might.

18 miles on the Erie Canal Park Trail
3/22/2009 5:30 a.m. to 7:41 a.m.

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Tags: canal, Dark, erie, Faith, Light, luck, Run, Running, shadow

Posted By Scott on March 22, 2009

Appalled by night, the grinding of the stars
against the darkness, I withdraw behind
the safety of translucent prison bars
that demarcate the boundaries of my mind.
I close my eyes, capitulate to dreams
which pierce me like the distant, starry rays
of godless worlds within the cracks and seams
of endless nights, incarcerated days.
It’s clear the window mocks my clarity
with curtains of perception, dingy white.
The universe is filthy, vast, and we
are nothing more than motes of dust at night.
Our freedom is illusory, at best,
at worst, the failure of some cosmic test.

Category: Sonnets | 1 Comment »
Tags: darkness, Dust, Life, Mind, rant, Stars, universe

Posted By Scott on March 22, 2009

I think of darkness, fifty years ago
when I was middle-aged and deaf and blind,
when beauty was a song I sang too slow,
and how I sold my soul to lose my mind.
To beauty, raise a glass of wine and tears
and press it to my lips with gentle haste.
My hands are trembling, filled with ancient fears
of uselessness which cannot be replaced.
Three days have passed since I regained my sight,
three days since I could hear, but not rejoice,
because she only visits me by night
and haunting, sobbing silence is her voice,
reminding me of fifty years ago
when beauty was a song I sang too slow.

Category: Sonnets | 1 Comment »
Tags: Beauty, blind, deaf, Death, Song, Tears, Voice, Wine

Posted By Scott on March 20, 2009

Her dolls have all been put away, and now
she says her prayers, Hail Mary, full of grace.
My heart remembers pieces of a vow
she whispered in another time and place,
like pieces of a heart within a doll:
ceramic, shattered, hidden from her view,
below a painted face. The shards are small,
too small to represent the love we knew.
They cut their way through flesh, inert, like foam
and buried deep in softness cut the hand
of anyone who dares to take me home,
or anyone who cares to understand
that part of life is pain, the biggest part,
and love, the tiny shards of broken heart.

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Tags: Broken, cut, doll, Heart, Loss, Love, Pain

Posted By Scott on March 17, 2009

You shake and cry when pleasure is intense;
you shake and cry for what? I thought I knew.
It must be something deeper than I sense
when I’m a million miles away from you.
You shake and cry behind the thinnest veil;
you shake and cry and tear the veil away,
my mind absorbing every small detail
in hopes to hold forgetfulness at bay.
I hear you in the distance, like a storm.
I see you on a page within a book.
I smell you like the rain when it is warm.
I taste you like the fish can taste the hook.
I break the solemn silence with a sigh,
unsure what ever made you shake and cry.

(more…)

Category: Sonnets | 3 Comments »
Tags: cry, Longing, Love, pleasure, unsure, veil