Tuesday, August 4, 2015

For a Friend among Friends June 15,1972

In 1972 Ken wrote a few sonnets, a poetic form he excelled in.

Was that a quarrel, these words that never came?
And did you hate, or blacken out, my name?
I did not mean to breach your peace of mind,
Though I was rough, more quick and free than kind.
I cannot rest, my pen fights with despair;
I flee from friends to lock away my face;
My heart is less than stone, my soul is bare;
I fear you'll never give me back my place.
You are not here; when will you come again?
And will you come in peace to mend the tear?
I do not gloss the truth to toll my pain,
My brain is thick with thoughts I cannot bear.
The chances are if you cannot forgive,
I must begin to wonder why I live.

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