|T H E A R T P A R T Y|
|a b o u t ! ~ a r t ! ~ i s s u e s ! ~ p r o p a g a n d a ! ~ j o i n ! ~ e v e n t s ! ~ c o n t a c t !|
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
A SonnetBurning the last of winter's dry leaves
we put behind past debts,
debts of the unfaithful heart,
debts of the dying soul, for these
our hopeful, colorful, new flowers,
which balm our bewilderment like any
small beauty. Left to me
this truth that everything shall pass over,
whether season or pleasure or pain,
reaffirms the idea of the innate eternity
waiting like a restless lover for me
in a timeless space that's sweet and sane.
These circles will not be my death
but resurrect my soothing breath.
i think the rhyme is nice. and of course, i love the spring imagery... it makes me wish for these months to be over. the poem is beautiful. "which balm our bewilderment like any / small beauty. Left to me / this truth..." particularly wonderful. it brings good images and thoughts to me, even though i'm angry and can't believe in any "space that's sweet and sane." thanks, as always.
i, too, enjoy the rhyme! you were clearly not tied down by the rhyme, but let it embellish.Post a Comment
"these circles will not be my death/ but resurrect my soothing breath"
absolutely lovely. it brings me joy to hear some hope in your writings. love.