0243 The Sonnet Poem by Michael Shepherd
0243 The Sonnet
Why is this sonnet form so dear to me?
this silent cloister of the singing heart
where I may be myself in sanctity
yet meet beloved strangers there in art;
a shape like some great arch across the world
where every word has music in its sound;
a place like prayer, inner maze uncurled
to find a pattern in that measured ground;
a conversation with tomorrow's friends
of all we know but seldom talk about;
a haven in a time that never ends;
a love that's now a whisper, now a shout;
- to final couplet, falling heaven-blest
to stillness, in that space where all things rest.
This is fine writing Michael, 'A place like prayer, inner maze uncurled' very clever Love Duncan
this is one of the best pieces I've read on here by anybody, no BS, no doubt.
Very well done, Michael. Shakespearean sonnets are so beautiful and you write them with an ease that belies their difficulty. The one you read of mine this morning is a bit older, and I've got a few more to post. Nicely penned, my friend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 2:35:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
You do sonnets so well...I envy you and aspire to produce a sonnet a fraction as beautiful. Sincerely, Kenneth