Tag Archives: Languages

This latest…

Posted by David Emeron on

…addition to a sequence, comes at rather a late hour, in more ways than one.  I have been preoccupied with a trip I am planning to take at the beginning of April, 2013–the first of such travel in quite a long while for me.  I found myself avoiding everything–including thought.  Still, tonight I had to see if I could push through it.  I am pleased to see that I am able to do so.  I have posted tonight’s entry which is now scheduled to go up on the 28th.  So the “addition” link will not be live until then.  The “sequence” link is good, but will not include the new entry until then.

The newest entry is a Reverse Spenserian with alternating rhyme at the first of the line–alternating similar sounds.  Plus a few internal rhymes as well.  The Reverse Spenserian scheme has a slowly metamorphosing rhyme sound scheme.  So each new rhyme is related to the last in some way.  And each alternative rhyme is related to its former by an addition of an ‘R’ sound added to the final vowel syllable.

Sonnet VII: Helpless

Posted by David Emeron on

So dark within this place, what is this grey
Like velvet fire that would my hand subdue?
Can this–such sweetest pliancy as may
Command my strength to helplessness–be true?

What should I from this helplessness construe
That further took my senses night from day?
Though ne’er would I this mastery through
Any means demand, excepting I obey.

I take what is demanded and delay,
As valiantly I must, what is my due;
And all this tempest, bid me on its way,
Is great in all it promiseth anew.

Much more thou knew’st than wouldst thou ever say;
Thy sweetness grew that burned my will away.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

Permalink

Sonnet I: Alighted Grace

Posted by David Emeron on

But sleek, one shape as wondrously soft,
More perfect in its drape than might one think;
And such, should be perfection held aloft,
That by this, would its height so make one sink.

For perfectly it thwarts ones every thought;
So pliant-smooth it courts by its design,
That brought so every instinct as it ought;
Requires nary thought to intertwine.

More alien than truly might one guess;
As fell another species though from sky;
Alighted grace, such beauty as would bless
The altar of my sleep, this place whereby,

As master and as slave, I feel anew;
Each moment strave my every wish come true!

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

Permalink