Creative Writing
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I don't write much, I don't write often, but sometimes the best thing to do when the world caves in on you, or washes over you, or whatever, is to write a sonnet. There is something about the inevitability and orderliness of a sonnet, something about transmuting the mess of the world into tinkling pentameters, that I find very consoling.

Since I'm unlikely to publish any of my English-language writing, I might as well web-publish it here. The common thread running through what verse I've written in English (making it quite different to what I've written in Esperanto) is that it's all been triggered by what might be euphemistically called 'romantic adventures.' As sublimation exercises, I think they're not without merit... If you want more information on the genesis or references of any particular piece, do ask.

Hair Poem

Written in praise of someone's hair. Some sound modulation I, at least, found pleasing... It probably doesn't mean as much as it alludes; then again, I always was a sucker for formalism.

Acidic Baby

This sonnet sort of blurted out in my mind at a tram stop, a month after the addressee (the same to whom the previous and next poem were aimed) was farewelled. I think it's the best of the bunch --- if you go for oxymorons (which, translated badly from Modern Greek, gives Acidic Baby).

Built

The proper farewell to what was (in at least some ways) my first love.

Angels

The addressee was fairly troubled at the time. 'Forever' is a long time --- too long, as it turns out. Wherever you are, Mar, I wish you well...

"It rains..."

To be honest, I've forgotten who the addressee of the poem was (it's narrowed down to two), but it's basically a been-rebuffed poem.

Done

This is what I came up with a year after the big break-up, a smidgeon of guilt, and a spray of formalism.

Kind Of A Celestial Book

This, for a friend exceedingly dear to me, who was going through a rougher than usual patch. Caught up in her travails, I wrote this to cheer her up --- and found that it had actually cheered me up, too. "You'll have to write that down" is a phrase she liked to throw at me; her play with that started things off...

Rachel's Crown

A crown of sonnets I wrote shortly after an affair I had in London. What I say in the cycle is basically what happened, though buried under some formalism and a lot of obscurantism.