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Mon 31 Oct, 2005 11:04 am
When matter, freed, first wrought from frozen womb
Unblossom'd bud upon unwither'd bough
The scattered seed besought a bridal tomb
From mire and mud came venom's sliver'd vow.
Thus passion born, from naught creation sprung
Five waving rings would lower the leaf in place
The serpent, scorned; both lamb and lion flung
As woven shadows whisper grief's disgrace
Yet softly speak who stone and sceptre dread
And iron glove to shield securely weld
You wanton weak! Alone of one 'tis said
The tree of truth and spear were surely held.
Decry respect, does mortal man deny
The lion yet beneath the lamb will lie?
I enjoyed your sonnet very much! I have to write one some day.
I love sonnets in the traditional english style. Well-written indeed!
Thanks CrazyD!
My day, unlike my bed, is made.
Imur,
Keep it up - and I like your Woody Allen tag.
Here's one of my own efforts.
Hajj.
The sands, like stars, our puny measures taunt,
And Arab minds, fixed dessert nights possess.
Simplistic Truth emerges hence to haunt
Our convolutions forged in urban wilderness.
Like scattered grains, dispersed on torpid breeze
They root awhile in lands of higher worth,
Their nurture taken, sieved from cultural disease
Life's mission calls - believers must rebirth!
Then donning white, like blood cells to the fray
They ooze as one in transcendental dance.
And euthanasics swoon as ecstasy gives way
To "paradise, not death, as planned for in advance.
Yet sand stays coarse - abrasive to the flow,
But stars inspire true intellect to grow.
Thanks Fresco.
Enjoyed your poem very much.
Most of my other efforts are of the "Roses are red" variety!
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