Castaway Sonnets

By Steve Morgan

A book of sonnets and a few other kinds of poems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781682221228

Steve Morgan

Born into a Christian family, in 1971, Steve applied himself to an extensive study of Christianity through the 1990’s. Leading to a departure from the faith in the mid 2000’s. In 2012 Steve was forced into retirement with a disability. Since, his life has grown with several interests emerging. An amateur parrot breeder, amateur Colour Pencil artist, writer, reader & avid lawn Bowler. Is a fan of quality film, documentaries, & intelligent comedy: “Fluffy”, & Bill Bailey. He has an ever widening assortment of interests; Current affairs, quirky history, Stoicism, philosophy, & Egyptian History. Never married, he lives alone in regional Victoria, Australia, with his beloved parrots. Interest in paronomasia, & neologisms began in earnest during the worlds longest lockdown in Victoria, Australia during the recent Covid-19 pandemic, 2021. Producing The Standard Religiously Irrelevant Version, a parodied edition of several Christian folklore.

Book preview

Speaks

The Blood-Red Moon

Let us go then you and I,

feet tripping, hearts beating,

anticipating and bewitched

as mortals can be to beating,

beating, rhythmically beating,

deep into the forest, shivering

all around, and the clearing

to the sky, to the moon opening,

a blood-red moon beckoning

as we slowly start to dance,

building to a frenzy, blurring,

transforming, until collapse

upon the ground, tightly holding

one another as life keeps beating.

That Girl

Even as an old man he could easily

recall what it felt like first seeing

that smile, like a sunrise, and eyes

full of deep, mysterious feelings,

ah, and that lovely body adorned

with simple clothes, hair braded,

a languorous feline aura about her,

making you want her even more,

but it was not to be, circumstances

separated them, except in his mind,

where he kept seeing her in traces,

hoping someone so young and fine

would’ve been treated fair and kindly

by the world, treated good and gently.

A Changed Man

I never gave much thought to things religious.

Parents sent me to church, but I stopped going

when older because it sure didn’t take a genius

to figure out that biblical stuff was more stifling

than enlightening, but after I nearly died then

everything changed. There I was hovering above

and watching lifeguards fussing over me when

I was whisked away and met by incredible love,

and when those around me told me I had to go

back, I knew I had to but didn’t want to, that’s

how much at home I felt, and I’m here to tell you

that consciousness continues after death, that’s

for sure, and there is no end, no beginning, there

is only change, and wow was I changed, I swear.

It’s Best You Learn

All things must change to something new,

to something strange, and nowadays strange

is ordinary as you struggle to learn how to

navigate a maddening world and to manage

when you don’t even know male from female,

or that earning a living isn’t a given, or that

growing up can be hazardous to your health,

so wear a helmet, and so much more of what

never used to be, making life tres difficile to

know who you are, or what you are, or where

you are with change so deep and dark you

have lost touch on why you have come here,

which is simple: you are here to learn through

difficulties, and to transcend them is up to you.

The Great Disaster

He liked to read about disasters, natural and manmade,

and every morning he expected to wake up to a new

world shaken by a great earthquake, or spun and battered

by giant tornadoes, or blown apart by wars leading to

enormous destruction, but those that came were nothing

of the magnitude he expected, and soon the world forgot

about them, yet he kept thinking something big was going

to happen because of what scores of psychics thought,

because he read them all, one dire prophecy after another,

and meanwhile he did the best he could, toiling at work

he did not like, trying to find meaning elsewhere, ever

vigilant, when one day, without warning, he felt the hurt,

a massive heart attack, which turned his world upside down,

and at the end he finally realized the disaster was his own.

The Wise Guy

It is impossible to love and to be wise,

which I found out about the hard way

with Sharon, what a surprise she was,

me thinking love, asking her to stay,

even after she snarled, Get lost loser,

which hurt, but not as much as when my

girlfriend Amy took me to the cleaners,

taking all my pay before saying goodbye.

Hey, I could count so many others that

I’d go nuts, but nuts to that, except you

remember the wounds, the self pity that

wells up, and a wise man can just let go

and forget, but not me, I’m ready for more

even if the next one turns out to be a whore.

Viking, On

She was proud her parents came from Sweden

bragging to many as she could that she was 100

percent Swedish, and when life got rough she

kept a saying, Viking, On, words that powered

her through until the next thing to come along,

and there was always something to battle with,

whether it was her divorce or taking the wrong

path in life, saying Viking, On gave her faith,

something to believe in, and when she got older

she often needed to use Viking, On for easing

nagging health problems, eventually for cancer,

facing her biggest challenge, stubbornly resisting

treatments, until at last she knew she was gone

to meet ancestors, her last words: Viking, On.

There Is Only a Plan

"There is no limit, there is no chance.

There is only a plan."

That’s what he received in a trance.

Told by an Egyptian.

And to him it made perfect sense.

To me not much.

Something about it too immense.

For him nonesuch.

He tried to explain, and words failed.

There’s just no way.

I pondered long at what he said.

After he left today.

There was something about it I liked.

For a mind unslaked.

A New Beginning

Am I still here? he asked after orienting himself from

a deep sleep. He was so close to death that he thought he

had passed. "I thought I died yesterday, and now to come

back is so disappointing," he said and sighed and told me

it must be some kind of cruel joke or a bad dream, but I

gently assured him we wanted him here with us, on earth,

but the next day he got what he wanted, which was to die

and go home to what he had been preparing for: rebirth,

prepping for it with forays to the other side where there,

I imagine, must be only balance and love and a plan,

and that much I know because he showed it to me at the

end with what he said and how he acted, eager to man

up and