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365 Sonnets is completed! While there be no more new posts, feel free to read the sonnets and comment! :)

You can read my new poetry at Some Turbid Night: http://someturbidnight.blogspot.ca/ :)

Thursday, March 06, 2008

Sonnet LXVI

Who taught the rivers to sing beautifully?
The rain of course, that mother lachrymose
who, moved by tears, spent hours by her streams
and listened to her toil’s wondrous work.

Who taught the trees to whisper melodies?
The birds of course, so selfless in their task
of teaching art to forests in the breeze -
obliged by empathy to share their gift.

And how those trees sing greater, after death!
In keyboards, leaves of art, and lover’s notes,
while spheric harmonies adorn the breath
of Dreamers, fed by lyric brooks and creeks.

Though praise of precious teachers disappear,
their work will last, commemorated here.

2 comments:

  1. Merci beaucoup! I should epic sonnet-cycle more often. More to come!

    ReplyDelete

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

Thanks, Wordle!