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: :)

Tuesday, October 07, 2008


Not cold nor dark, for Death cannot be felt nor seen.
Not silent, sad, nor stark, for Death has lost its ears,
which then were empathetic, now astray on years
and deafened, caring not to listen to your plea.

Not painful for beholders, greeting him with glee,
absurd. Not cruel nor beneficial by one’s fears,
but nonchalant, uncaring – thus bereaved of tears –
which, would it Life, be bitter, copiously seen.

Who felt the Death impending then, its fingers bare,
unsheathed for Life, prepared for new-acquired fare?

It was the almost-dead, deprived of feeling’s vice,
emotion stripped, their closing minds beginning end;
their eyes ablaze with nothingness, their lips a friend
to emptiness, as raw as day, as bright as ice.


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

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

Thanks, Wordle!