When I feared imposition I ran home;
With words of ice, my bitterness came built,
My tongue was burnt; in ice I came to roam.
To me, guilt served as both priest and pastor,
My savior—guilt—ripped me away from you;
He cut out my eyes, called me disaster,
Whispered my name and made me think of you.
Without tongue or eyes, I wandered through hell,
Murmured your name and searched for thirteen years.
By my side was guilt; he caused prey for hell—
When I said your name, he destroyed my ears.
I thought that I would stay numb forever,
But guilt ended me; all my endeavors.
DannYetman
http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/
3 comments:
brilliant, great imagery, you did well, good construction,,,,
nice ... you clearly have a facility with this form. stick with the sonnet as part of your tool kit. you will write some great ones if you do.
Thanks (: I really like the sonnet form; I love the structure that it provides.
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