Sunday, 14 April 2013

Sonnet: the first. A twisted love story

You raise your eyes and scan the room for them
Your disappointment palpable to all.
There is no prize but pain; scorched earth within
All bitter bile and biting acid gall.
Without, what is the point, where is the end?
For what, these small reluctant breaths, this pulse?
Irreverent life that will not condescend
To stop this onward march that has no sense.
And yet, there is the memory of hope.
Where razed emotions leave faint trace of joys
And the seeds of new beginnings hint at their scope,
There is this ineluctable truth: time destroys.
Hearts are broken again and again and again;
The insensate clock continues its bloody hopeful reign.


9 comments:

  1. Oh how I recognise the sentiments those words elicit. One advantage of age for me has been a quiet and peaceful heart. But only the pain makes me appreciate it so much more.

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  2. Hi Graham. This grew out of a task I set myself yesterday - to write a poem in sonnet form and to finish it in a max 24 hours. Think this is the result of not being challenged too much at work...lol...
    It was based on observations triggered by my son's recent broken heart; by remembrances of my own past experiences and by frustrations you feel at the time with those platitudes (which turn out to be largely true) that 'time heals'...

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    Replies
    1. Yes the 'time heals' bit is enforced by the use of 'ineluctable'. At the time we don't believe it but as soon as we let go time heals. It's when we don't that it becomes unhealthy and, like any other wound, it takes longer to heal and may, in fact never heal with the inevitable consequences. As you say, though, it's being told that irks.

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    2. Oh and how it irks!
      I tried to avoid saying it to my son. But in the event he is a perfect example of 'determined young man moving forward into the future'... I remember thinking at the time that if he was art he'd be one of those hopeful post war posters of rebirth or a 50s tv advert for new technology in a brave new world...
      It was a peculiar task to undertake though - writing the 'sonnet'. It is so difficult not to make it all sound tortured and in thrall to the form. Not sure I'll be repeating it! :-D

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    3. I can't even begin to imagine trying. I think you did a wonderful job.

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  3. What a task! I don't think I could roll out a sonnet if you paid me. Stark and tricky words that hit base. Good gal xxx cat

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    Replies
    1. I'm more than certain you would be up to writing a sonnet!
      The real question is: why on earth would any sane person want to? Lol.
      I think it was the competitive child in me - I set myself a challenge and then couldn't let it beat me!
      And in truth - I was 'stuck' - finding it hard to write so I wondered if setting myself a school-type task would force some words... Yip. Truly mad. :-)

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  4. Love that last line. Emotive and thoughtful. Glad you used the word 'insensate'-- plays with the tongue in a wonderful fashion.

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  5. Wow, y.s.s.! Sonnet-writing is not for the faint-hearted and you did it with panache. I love the last two lines in particular.

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