Death House Press

Sonnet Syndrome

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Coup D'Amour ("Stroke of Love")

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I know your love could keep me kindly fed, 
And gazing on your face could quench my thirst, 
Your life and joy could be my daily bread, 
My nectar, just the sight of lips soft-pursed. 
But someone else has turned your heart to him, 
And I have joined the fight for love too late, 
Though nothing could eclipse or even dim, 
My feeling that his love is not your Fate. 
And so I sought to sabotage you two, 
And tried--in vain!--to tear your path from his, 
If I had won, then scribes would mark the coup! 
Alas! My master stroke, a mere pop quiz. 
        Someday I pray that you will feel my plight, 
        And turn from him to seek me out some night.

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G. Bennett Ulrich 

1998

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Cruel Destiny

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Shall I tell thee, dears, the woe that did befall 
This poor boy's heart when first he saw his Muse? 
She had--alas!--answered some other artist's call, 
And our sad bard saw Waterloo in distant Santa Cruz. 
Fate, it seems, had played him for quite the fool, 
Showing him the ladder to Heaven's brightest gate, 
And then snatching away his angelic stepping stool. 
Could God be laughing at our hero's Earth-bound state? 
What could he do to make the most of things? 
What actions would work best to change his course? 
Should he be bold and give her golden rings, 
Or serenade her till his voice grows hoarse? 
     All in all it seems a futile cause, 
     Wishing Kansas was really Oz.

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G. Bennett Ulrich 

1999

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Eternal Springs

The day I met my love she was not mine, 
She wanted to be free, my muse divine. 
It seemed I saw a glimmer of her heart, 
And vowed to take it slow and yet to start. 
It didn't take me long to see the score, 
She may indeed have wanted something more. 
I tried to show her that I saw her soul, 
It's no small feat, my friends, and no small goal. 
I thought I felt her turn herself to me, 
Respond in kind and warm to a degree. 
And then she asked me out and I was in! 
My joy went places it'd never been. 
    Until she called to say she'd found a mate, 

    And so I sit alone accursed by fate.

G. Bennett Ulrich

2004