‘No Sweeter Spell’ and Other Poetry by Brad Lussier The Society May 2, 2013 Poetry No Sweeter Spell Those things that I have told you, little things That no one else knows, things I’ve dared not share Fall out my mouth to you as if on wings – Cavorting swallows free upon the air. Then fearless do they fly and call aloft Whole flocks that follow, with their tales untold, Each skyward drawn to knowing eyes, so soft, Whose love salves souls, sore-wounded, unconsoled. What magic’s in you, what do you possess? What potion, what elixir do you use To charm the birds that they to you confess Those secret things that once their hearts did bruise? No sweeter spell but that your love has cast On wounded ones forged flightless by the past. Within Her Colors How cruel this muse who hides from me her eyes As if my heart was really free to name Another in whom inspiration lies, Another who incites my passion’s flame. For oft within her colors did I wade And found there freedom every tale to tell And fed on wit and laughter unafraid Of shame that threatens heartpeace to dispel. But now without her spark to kindle fire I hunger, wander ravenous in need, My deepest parts the slave to my desire To ’hold her face and on her eyes to feed. Until she deigns once more return my gaze I, helpless, longing, pained spend all my days. Author’s Note: The English or Shakespearean sonnet, I believe, may be best read remembering that the iambic meter follows the beat of the human heart – a softer beat followed by a heavier beat. Think, lub-DUB, lub-DUB. With this in mind, if one then reads the sonnet aloud (as it would have often been read in Shakespeare’s time) investing one breath to a line, the body is truly inspired by the breath and heartbeat to embrace the writer’s thoughts and bring them to life. I recommend that you try it, and see where your heart takes you. Brad Lussier, a native of Rhode Island, was educated in Providence, Newport, and Boston in a variety of disciplines, including literature, computer science, and theology. Having traveled the world as an educator and later as a professional chorister, he now enjoys occasional tours as an actor. When he is not working, he enjoys playing fingerstyle guitar for an audience of one – his 19 year old yellow tiger cat, Rafael. Together they make their home in Orleans, Massachusetts, where Brad continues to enjoy writing sonnets in his spare time. Related Post ‘To a Red-Winged Black Bird on the Advent of Spring... To a Red-Winged Black Bird on the Advent of Spring For some a robin heralds in the Spring. Others: a crocus or a daffodil. My old man claims it’s... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.