…this entry (spaces removed):
as i slept
by a veranda
open to the sea
on a cool night
just right
to letthe wind
and moonlight
and the stars
blow quietly
past me
as i slept
… is rather a sonnet of sorts if two (acutally quite releveant) lines are added to each verse:
as i slept
just inside
by a veranda
open to the sea
on a cool night
just right
to letthe wind
and moonlight
and the stars
blow quietly
past me
caressing
as i slept
When once I, joyous, dreamt mye day with thee,
Inside thy window, slept, as waned our day
Without; by a veranda on the sea
To air and heart, as opened sweet, this night.
As such, it waxeth cool; its peace, and poise,
And stopt in time, so perfect, did it stay
To let, as any young man’s dream enjoys’,
The wind, so gentle wafteth, in its flight;
And moonlight, as she shone in gentle state;
And stars so faint they, light years, gleam away,
Blow quiet, once so borne, and dream create.
And gently, as I sleep and dream, alight
They take–as by thee touched, so faraway,
As wouldst, caressed by mee, thou make delight.
as i slept
just inside
by a veranda
open to the sea
on a cool night
just right
to let
the wind
and moonlight
and the stars
blow quietly
past me
caressing
as i slept
Is it starlight–doth shimmer down from sky,
Bereft of cloud, that doth pretend such grace?
And is it moonlight, floating down, as show
She doth, configuration’s subtle face–
As though, to cover all, she doth thereby
Intrude, and douse these tiny candles–cool,
As her reflection, ripples undergo,
With counter-sparkle in a quiet pool?
Is it lamplight–that doth she overfly
From out a window, for its calm, perform?
Or is it firelight, setting us aglow,
For which she doth abound, surrounding warm?
Her hand, doth she, Romantic, try her charm
Protecting us from storm, and so from harm.
Starlight–pretending grace;
Moonlight–intruding cool:
Configuration’s subtle face
Reflecting in a quiet pool.
Lamplight–embracing calm;
Firelight–surrounding warm:
Romanticism’s gentle hand
Protecting us from harm.
Shall any reach the stars when no man may?
And who shall lift ye when the rest are gone?
Believe ye he’ll continue, at your sway,
To trust it’s ye from whom his strength is drawn?
What lie is this? What price is added on
To that, with blissful ignorance, his gifts
Have paid? Dare shriek that hand should carry on,
Betrayed, when ye have cursed it while it lifts
Ye from your caves. The mind who guides it drifts
In lofty space. And when it dreams, it keeps
Ye from your graves. The laws of God it sifts,
With all His grace, yea, even as it sleeps.
Yet now, lies still, until your evil dies–
At rest, until ’tis safe to touch the skies!
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
To All The Weary:
He who waits. He who does not.
He who lifts the Earth.
Holds himself aloft.
Who reaches to the Heavens.
Godspeed either way.
David Emeron: Sonnets 