The clouds enshroud my night in blackened cold
I'm stretched from tundra to savanna grave
The snow and sand come at my eyes, a wave
In shades of frozen white and burnished gold
I'll heal, I'll overcome my grief, I'm told
But healing's not the medicine I crave
There's nothing left of breathing now to save
And nothing left of loving now to hold.
But when the sky parts, brave and bright with stars
I feel your ghost rise up inside my skin
And though my smile is cut apart with scars
The promised healing fuels and begins.
My faith consoles me; you'll be never far--
The presence of an angel is within.
Author notes
Petrarchan sonnet for my dear angel.
A contest entry
- How much courage do you have? by masterblaster.
13000 points, ended March 7, 22 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
rip it
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Hi, lovely sonnet, couple of hiccups in the meter , a good write,Di
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May I ask where my "hiccups" were?
I noticed several "hiccups" in the gold winner that made me stumble through the poem, but none in the silver/bronze (which were stunning). Hmm. -
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The line "The promised healing fuels and begins" is 9 syllables, hmm! shall I continue?
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According to my dictionary, it is ten... I assume "fuel" is the word you have an issue with?
So yes, please continue.
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a good poem with rich meaning
I went through few of your poems and i liked them and specially this one is making me think that you are really a good poetess with rich ideas and composition of sweet loving words... best of luck and just go on..
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A rich sonnet for your Angel.
I enjoyed severral images: "blackened cold";
"stretched from tundra to savanna grave";
"my smile is cut apart by scars".
Perfect iambic pentameters. Rhyme kept to four end-vowel sounds.
The first quatrain is delightfully topographically physical and becomes your externalized setting and mood. The next quatrain is well-crafted and tied by rhyme to the first and by motive to an internalization of your predicament of a 'cold desert' love metaphor.
The volta of line nine characteristically and classically begins with the argument, and connective "but". And following the despairing loneliness you have built, the very first line bursts with almost a celebration in the heavens:
"But when the sky parts, brave and bright with stars ...".
I do thank you for a beautiful sonnet.
Ron.
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And thank you for a beautiful comment. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Elizabeth
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