Sonnets from Hell
by Dan Thompson
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita...
So here I am: the middle part of life--
the time when generation tests its power.
I’d like more time to spend with children and wife,
but work lays claim to most of my waking hours.
I’m quite well paid for what I do at work;
I’ve been promoted twice these last three years.
I started many years ago as clerk,
but worked and made the most of my career
and here I am: Department Head of Sales.
I fear my kids don’t realize what it takes.
It takes hard work to win, and he who fails
can never have security. The stakes
are high. They need to stay in school.
(I wish they’d not rebel and act like fools.)
The time is passing faster every year.
My life’s accelerated pace leaves not
a spare moment, but things cannot be bought
with looks, and friends (however close and dear),
I’ve noticed, tend to turn an empty ear
in your direction when you’re not so hot.
You start to slip, and soon your life is caught
in failure’s claws: the end of your career.
But I’ve done well, and now my oldest son
desires a job that’s very much like mine.
My daughter, though, says she’s in love with one
who has no job, no plans. His artwork’s fine,
but painting’s no career. (It may be fun,
but when you’re old, the world is not benign.)
My marriage has, of late, become absurd--
my wife and I just going through the motions.
We sometimes try to talk. Beyond the words
there’s nothing, but I still cling to notions
that we should try to love each other. That
makes it worse. (In the end, who really cares?)
Besides, we’ve changed a lot. (She’s getting fat,
I’m going bald; I soon will have no hair.)
I feel that time is catching up with me.
I feel a need to turn my life around.
I mostly feel a need for something new--
but what? Dissatisfaction cannot be
forever. “Mid-life crisis” has the sound
of something passing...
Will it soon be through?
So here I am: the middle part of life--
the time when generation tests its power.
I’d like more time to spend with children and wife,
but work lays claim to most of my waking hours.
I’m quite well paid for what I do at work;
I’ve been promoted twice these last three years.
I started many years ago as clerk,
but worked and made the most of my career
and here I am: Department Head of Sales.
I fear my kids don’t realize what it takes.
It takes hard work to win, and he who fails
can never have security. The stakes
are high. They need to stay in school.
(I wish they’d not rebel and act like fools.)
The time is passing faster every year.
My life’s accelerated pace leaves not
a spare moment, but things cannot be bought
with looks, and friends (however close and dear),
I’ve noticed, tend to turn an empty ear
in your direction when you’re not so hot.
You start to slip, and soon your life is caught
in failure’s claws: the end of your career.
But I’ve done well, and now my oldest son
desires a job that’s very much like mine.
My daughter, though, says she’s in love with one
who has no job, no plans. His artwork’s fine,
but painting’s no career. (It may be fun,
but when you’re old, the world is not benign.)
My marriage has, of late, become absurd--
my wife and I just going through the motions.
We sometimes try to talk. Beyond the words
there’s nothing, but I still cling to notions
that we should try to love each other. That
makes it worse. (In the end, who really cares?)
Besides, we’ve changed a lot. (She’s getting fat,
I’m going bald; I soon will have no hair.)
I feel that time is catching up with me.
I feel a need to turn my life around.
I mostly feel a need for something new--
but what? Dissatisfaction cannot be
forever. “Mid-life crisis” has the sound
of something passing...
Will it soon be through?
Dan Thompson (PhD) is a U.S. Army veteran and former editor and professor who writes crime and speculative-fiction short stories and novellas, as well as realistic and contemporary-gothic fiction and poetry. Within the past year, his work has appeared in issues of Feral, Canary, Eclectica, Black Coffee Review, Rat’s Ass Review, and Jerry Jazz Musician, among other publications.