When Caesar Was Thirty He Knelt Down and Cried

A Carpe Diem poem by John
When Cæsar was thirty he knelt down and cried
Before the statue of Alexander.
For when the great general had reached such an age
The world he already had.
This I, too, felt when yesteryear
I looked upon the work of Frankenstein
Which, when its author was only twenty and one,
Was unleashed upon the world.
For what do I wait, I ask myself,
When time as they say is a-wastin’.
When I could be working to have it bound,
Why must I stay and tarry?
Let me instead spring forth to write
And, with my sights set onto it,
Send my work when done to find
A home on many readers’ shelves.
-Written November 12th, 2012

Sonnet # 3 in B flat minor

Sonnet 3
John Everett

Two words are used to describe the same thing,
When man is without any company,
Opposing, though, are they in their meaning.
Has he solitude? Or is he lonely?

The first shows happiness without one’s friends.
In the second, sadness creeps in instead.
How can one root grow two different ends?
Any plant that did that would end up dead!

And yet one wants to put himself away,
Happy that time by others is not bound.
But then when Night comes to relieve the Day,
His heart aches that he has no one around.

We must cherish what we have that moment
Lest we by day or night be malcontent.

– Written November 12th, 2012

A Selection of Sonnets

Summer Nights
The fireflies blink in the summer night
while crickets chirp by the riverside.
None has on his face the pallor of fright,
for the only sound is the trickling tide.
I relish these ev’nings; I always have.
I sit here with my loved ones next to me.
The soil is cool, the earth a dark enclave.
Our respite: to huddle with family.
I love the summer nights, the trees in bloom.
Golden wheat waves in the breeze slowly.
Death of fall has yet to rise from his tomb.
Leaves which Spring gave to trees drift mellowly.
I love these nights and the sweet things they share.
If they never ended, I’d have no care.
-Written April 2010
Just as Summer dies and gives way to cold,
we must surrender our youth to the young.
For some it is disease, some are just old,
but all give way and to our kin are sung.
Forever to live is not granted us.
For our progenitors lost it for all.
They ate the fruit; of God they were jealous.
Now we must toil until sleep in the pall.
And toil we do. From birth until our death
and watch those who came before go
to far lands and take with them their last breath.
Are we lucky? We will venture also.
Each comes here and at his time each departs.
They are gone but they live on in our hearts.
-Written April 2010

“The Tale of Larry”

I wrote this as a birthday gift for my youngest sister, and now that over a year has passed I’ll share it with everyone else. Written July 19th, 2012.

The Tale of Larry
by John Everett

to my sister Chea on her 26th birthday

Oh! What fun it is to be a trout.
To dance and laugh and swim about.
Just go with the flow,
let the winds blow,
and of cheer you will never run out.

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“Epiphany of a Rich Man”

Written March 14th, 2010

Epiphany of a Rich Man
by John Everett

Call: What is it I cherish? What, in this whole world, do I hold
in my heart? My taste has grown fat and my wallet feeds it.
Furs, gems, purple dies, silk. My house has swallowed them up.
Just as Tantalus I can never reach that for which I thirst.

Response: I am a fire.

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