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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/ :)

Friday, July 22, 2011

Sonnet CCCLXIV

   posted at
Alone, amongst the waves, beneath the sun -
I fear I'll drown; I've waded out too far.
The seabirds cackle in a frenzied bunch,
detecting noontime spoils from afar.
So far from land, so far from everyone,
I cannot say why I feel merrier:
my cheeks exude a strange vermillion,
my eyes ablaze with some unearthly star.

Perhaps I do not need an audience:
if I should whisper some aquatic rhyme,
the simple joy of it is bountiful -
if one should pause to note its loveliness,
then it is Art; if one should call it crime,
then I am mad as any starving gull.
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6 comments:

  3. The simple joy of this sonnet is bountiful, if I may say so! You write with a pen that is dipped in light!

    Am noting the number of the sonnet, #364. If you have resolved to stop at #365, please turn your very able hand to blank verse, or to the heroic couplet, or to villanelles, or to rondeaux redoublés! Anything at all; abandon not your readers!

    A poem by the late James Merrill begins with the words: "Art. It cures affliction." Poetry is art, of course; and when it is done as skillfully and as gracefully as you do it, it certainly mitigates our woes and gladdens our spirits. And inspires our gratitude.

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  5. I love this! You always brighten up my days with your lovely poems. A true talent!

    http://keepcalmandbookworm.blogspot.com/

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  6. Thanks Hannah & I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)

    ReplyDelete

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

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

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