Love's Calling Softly...
As if that were insufficient, now you shall be so bored that this offering stands the horrible likelihood of ignominy and shall be possibly buried in silence. I thought to invoke Shakespeare for it, seeing he admits to forever loving to speak of his love, but not managing to put it in the sonnet, shall merely mention that.
(sonnet # DLV)
While Spring is whisp'ring "Winter's o'er!" with glee,
Her premature arrival all too dear;
As he's still one month left to go, his sphere:
Of frozen black-and-white bleak drear; debris
Of lost Fall's slaughtered cheer; cacophony
Of bitter Death and naked, grim austere;
Lost as the last small snowfall's brief career
To soggy mud and sprouting green does flee.
Then on his heels she beckons in the light
Which seems in milder blue's clear face to wear
A carefree debonair, by morning's sight
Or afternoon's sweet shades anon so fair,
Until my feet just itch to wander in her bright
And tender, vibrant realm, and drink Love's air.
19Feb12
D109b
Jenny, have you thought of publishing your sonnets one day ? Thanks for sharing , -Raj
Nectar of the Gods!
I admire your courage to take on such a complex structure and to craft such a beautiful poem.
I'm sure your hand itches too to pen such beautiful poems all the time Jenny.. :)