Sunday, 6 April 2014

Morning Sonnet VII

So I made it to seven. Seven sonnets in seven days. Go, me!  It's been an interesting experience, as I feel I know the form so much better now. I still don't feel like I've managed a great sonnet this week, but I may have a few decent skeletons on which to build a meatier body.

I started off loving the Petrarchan sonnet so much more than the Shakespearean form, but I think I've changed my mind about that - I love the rhyming couplet at the end, it rounds off the poem so succinctly. So I hope you like my Sunday Sonnet: It's a Shakespearean one xx

There are no boundaries here, where the wind pulls
trees in the middle of a full Spring day,
bending the ash tree branches, pushes then sprawls
like there’s a way through, but the wind fades away.
I watch your fragile sleep, your breath unravels
a snoozy fragment that I want to hold
but I cannot catch or clasp its travels,
as it sweeps your eyelashes, you withhold.
Your grey Sunday mood, my wild rumpled dreams
emerge together through murkier mists,
striving as always to pull at my seams
and dancing before you, begs to be kissed.
The smallest lip twitch, the sweetest sigh,
we’ll continue to chase the bluest sky.

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