or no… perhaps they are
subject to pressure more
than merely formative.
Monthly Archives: August 2014
Sonnet V: Her Majesty
A word, then two, a fountain like a stream
That wears away a mountain. Time, a spring,
Reflection over aeons; it can bring
Perfection. Though it presses down, extreme
In ways of mystery. Its form can seem
To press its history: On such a common thing
As common coal–transformative–may wring
A diamond fine and whole. And so supreme
A form may limit, yet such limits might
Become the set of forces pressed upon
So commonplace a line as these I write.
The queen of all poetic forms: I fight
Her storms of pressure, educated on;
And open up my mind to all her light.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 5: One more way to write
One more way to write
My favourite in stages,
First, second, and third.
Sonnet IV: An Oath
No Oath, no cause, nor promise do I need;
For promises, with duty, must be kept.
This violet, a promise could impede;
For I, by every faculty, am swept
To tend, and make to prosper, every bloom.
I long have tried to stay my hand; but could
Not ever stay my soul; nor–and, assuming
Such could keep me whole–remand, for good
Or ill, that Holy Thread I share with God.
His will–all beauty, and all bounty, came
From His divine, all knowing light–abroad
To His creations fly; and in His Name,
Created He those beings He deemed as great,
Entrusted, in His image, to create.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 4: Five Petalled Flower
It’s not a beastbut is a gift to release the blessings He commands. I have much enjoyed this particular sequence. Perhaps you will too. The style varies from old to new. It changes as do the seasons.
Sonnet III: A call
No albatross is this around my neck,
This talisman to set my soul afire,
A host of angels, heavenly; a choir
Who, singing endless blessings, at my beck
And call, continue to adorn, bedeck,
Enthral, enslave the muses they acquire.
And, subject to my will, they must inspire
My pen to greater heights; until no speck
Of life remains within my body; or
My soul is, from its heart still beating, ripped;
Or locked in shadow, knowing only breath.
For, nothing less will end the oath I swore;
Until I have, this mortal coil slipped;
Or when the shadow takes me unto death.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 3: I Won’t Be Cryptic
It’s interesting how, in setting oneself a task, even a burdensome one, one ends up with more time to pursue ones endeavours, rather than less.
David Emeron: Sonnets 