There is a gentle mist in the air,
Light arises from an amethyst dawn
Violets fading fall, in sorrow torn
To grief upon the dazzled meadow's hair
In a shroud of dry, withered grass,
Where summer's smile sinks to waste
The flight of leaves on desperate trees,
Clings to the breath of winter's final task
But I was born to be free of these
Blemishes of the heart; I was born
To swirl upon a wild October breeze,
And thus to fly beyond men's feeble scorn
To lands beyond the reach of wrathful pain,
And quite beyond this cold, October rain
A lovely seasonal sonnet set in rain. (I'm scanning the net for rain poems) I love how your rhymes are subtle, even though you sometimes have squished inner-rhymes in there (leaves-trees-free-these). I also like the repetition of "born" and "beyond" in the end-- a smmmoooth conclusion, yet penetrating. But best of all is the whole "October-rain" theme, which I love for very personal reasons. Best line: "summer's smile sinks to waste" (gotta love all the alliteration going on!) Nit-pick: I only wish each line were not capitalized; it destroys some of the continuity--fluidity in reading. It's spring supposedly, but it sure feels like fall. --Charlie
Share
Print
Save
Follow
thanks for the quickie.......