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Sonnet Serenade
| Open Poetry #2 |
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Sonnet Serenade |
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Alicat Member Elite
since 1999-05-23
Posts 4094Coastal Texas 
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I Well could I write upon the joys of love Or sit and reminisce of her under the skies; But if I dared what wrath from Heaven above Would strike me where I lay for all the loving lies. For though I speak of rapture, of her charms I am speechless (in that I have no words) And can only babble about her silken arms And dream of a treasure no man can e'er afford. Yet still such dreams refuse to come to me For nightly I pace without her memory; A broken ship on a dark and lonely sea And I on this ship live my soliloquy. Even when her visage lay hidden from my sight Still shall she remain my orison's delight. Her name I know, but still she is a mystery to me, And now so often do I feel my arms about her waist; And gently too I long to prove my soothing love for she And bring to end my hermitude, so long, forlorn and chaste. What would happen if my love was thrown back in my face? Could I stand the agony of her genteel scorn? I would return to hermitude, my head bowed in disgrace, And there would stay till the end of the age, reliving love unborn. Here is where my path does fork: one to left and right. While one does lead to pleasure free, basking in glorious light, The other does lead to evil misdeeds, enshrouded by the night. I know not which is which, for true lay hidden from my sight. Slowly sinks the setting sun upon my vernal plain And deeper still the sinking goes, for I know not her name. Softly walks the summer wind towards her heart so pure, Whispered promise upon her lips, satin and ruby stained. Arise, young Breeze and speed your way to that fair place this morn; Escort this heart free from peril ere my love be born. Softly swaying she walks towards me, catlike and demure Swaying softly in the breeze, my attention gained. Satyrs play along the roadside on their pipes of horn; Footsteps swept in riotous twirlings never once forlorn Dance across the sloping valley dressed in shades of green. All the while her smile emits an incandescent sheen, Reflected beauty in her eyes, subtle and serene. Often times adventures thus are not quite as they seem; Illusions too, their nature true, I sometimes chance to gleam. Yet still I wonder, as she passes, what did I truly mean? II Silent and watchful, I see her everyday. Softly voiced and softly seen, she Looks about but never sees me. Has she no sight to send my way? Yet if we spoke, what could I e'er say? For in her presence my words often flee Leaving me muted witout my memory, Leaving me gasping as she walks away. How can I e'er espouse my heart To one so soft, distant and faire? What would I do if love e'er depart? What can I love if nothing but the air? For the moment, with loneliness I'll stay Though I would delight to give my heart away. Though in giving, would not I empty be? For what would strive to fill the place Where once was my heart, now vacant space in me, Longing to be filled with the image of your face? I do not know, nor should I query thee Upon the precurse of this: our unfound love Which steals no sleep nor thieves serenity; No rivers can it change nor mountains may it move. With emptiness I am and with emptiness shall stay, Regardless if she tries to steal my heart To sit and wile away each long and empty day; And though I hate it, never shall we part. Although I know the path unto the loving way Never shall I follow, nor e'er my heart obey! Orison, what does thy eye remember? Fortune or loss, what mem'ry can thee tell? Of this void, what do the Heavens spell? Ruin and death, my soul a dying ember; Ghost of youth thr'out the vernal timber. Oft I see my humbled ruined shell Tranquil and weeping in my private hell, Torn from arms of she I will remember. Even though I live in Autumn splendour Never shall I forget my poisoned wound. Love, thy taste has turned a rancid sour. Orison, what has thy mem'ry found? Vision of Love, thou fadest all too quickly. Enough! Enough! Enough of love for me! Alicat the persnikitty and loving every minute of it  (Thank you Doreen for the suggestion...consider it done) ------------------ Le Jongleur Aspirante [This message has been edited by Alicat (edited 09-02-99).] |
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| © Copyright 1999 Alastair Adamson - All Rights Reserved | |||
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doreen peri Member Elite
since 1999-05-25
Posts 3812Virginia |
You have really outdone yourself with this one, Alistair! It is well-crafted... reminiscent of the classics.... I am very impressed! I think the first three stanzas can stand alone, or be labeled "I". ... then the balance of the poem labed "II", because to me it reads in two parts, changing its meter at that poing. This line particularly stood out for me: "Upon the precurse of this: our unfound love Which steals no sleep nor thieves serenity;" -- Fabulous! And I absolutely LOVE the last stanza. It is quite well written. Almost every line is exceptional. This, especially: "Oft I see my humbled ruined shell Tranquil and weeping in my private hell, Torn from arms of she I will remember. Even though I live in Autumn splendour Never shall I forget my poisoned wound." I felt impelled to say more than, "nice poem" for such an exceptional piece. You are indeed a Poet. (In my vocabulary, I use that title distinctly... it is reserved for few) -dp |
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Tim Senior Member
since 1999-06-08
Posts 1794 |
Applause. |
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
Ditto!!! Absolutely wonderful!!  ------------------ Denise |
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Mike Member Elite
since 1999-06-19
Posts 2462 |
With sharpened quill, odist hath graced us all With heaven's thoughts; doth admirer enthrall. |
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Munda Member Elite
since 1999-10-08
Posts 3544The Hague, The Netherlands |
nummer achtentwintig |
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