English style sonnet with iambic pentameter.
Those who mistake me for watching our God
Accuse me to do without his consent
For held in this world so tight as a pod
Traditions are waning, our mindset bent
All high in the tower of western shore
I stay and observe the sad and forlorn
The changing of man, it's smoldering core
Flooding the mountains as a fearful storm
Where is the fire, birthing his small, gray smoke?
Where is his mother, the trees of the wood?
Now, I see boggy white fumes that I choke
A dentistry stands where the oak once stood
Not one single tear rises to my eye
Unfortunately, I have run quite dry
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 651 times
Written on 2007-01-16 at 16:19
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The Storm's Eye Has Closed (Sonnet)
Those who mistake me for watching our God
Accuse me to do without his consent
For held in this world so tight as a pod
Traditions are waning, our mindset bent
All high in the tower of western shore
I stay and observe the sad and forlorn
The changing of man, it's smoldering core
Flooding the mountains as a fearful storm
Where is the fire, birthing his small, gray smoke?
Where is his mother, the trees of the wood?
Now, I see boggy white fumes that I choke
A dentistry stands where the oak once stood
Not one single tear rises to my eye
Unfortunately, I have run quite dry
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 651 times
Written on 2007-01-16 at 16:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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