My First Sonnet

A poem inspired by leaves.

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I thought-formed this poem on the way to class one morning, and then I sat down and finished in it writing on October 10th, 2016.  I hope you enjoy; I hope you feel.

Into October

We were an autumnal arbor,

beautiful and bright.

Your arms were my harbor,

and only in them did I feel all right.

But auburn leaves turned brown,

and they fell; we became barren.

Forever more could I search the world,

but never one would I put life or care in.

The air a breeze, some days cold and now bitter,

shreds into wounded bark, and I merely shiver.

Your bay is gone now; it’s been deconstructed,

and only a frigid sea lies beyond, where once our love did.

Now the past fades away, the fall signals one full year,

and the leaves, which aren’t ours, make me wish you were here.

Ode to Ewe

What a difference a year makes for a longing heart, and an eternity for a broken one…

These poems were written exactly one year apart (September 21st, 2014/2015), for the woman I loved more than anyone or anything else.  The former is one of the easiest poems I’ve ever written, while the latter is the less-than-satisfying sequel that I tried to force into being as beautiful as the first.  “The Rose” is one of the first poems I ever wrote and finished.  I hope you enjoy these as thoroughly as I treasure them, for Bethany will always hold a place in my heart.  Alas, the poems can’t truly be appreciated unless heard in live performance, and I apologize for the unfulfilled experience of this WordPress page.

The Rose

In the valley, a lone sheep walks its lonely path.

He cries out to himself, “BAATH.”

On his nose sits a rose, beaten and black.

“Alas,” the world cries out, and “BAATH,” he cries back.

For the cruelty of the world hath pierced his heart,

            but for him, it only floors his form of art.

It seems to the world he has nothing left,

            but he knows of one thing―and one thing only―“BAATH.”

Into a dream he enters with each breath,

            and only in this state will he ever have BAATH.

 

The Rebirth

On the mountain, a lone tigress takes a deep breath.

She sighs to the moon, “RREGRET”

In the valley below, a sheep cries out, “BAATH.”

He calls as she nears him—his desired effect.

Radiant warmth permeates his ravaged heart,

            and as she emerges, his world falls apart.

Reality fades as dream turns to day,

            for this dream world, now his, shall not soon dissipate.

Serenity exists for him at last;

            in this euphoric state there exists only BAATH.