NOTE: L4 and on was tricky since you can't very well dictate what the sonnet shall say, but I wanted to note that down for posterity.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXXXV)
Mists shroud the thought of yonder, ghostly, pale
White none pierce 'cept by halves, a keen suspense
In tow as traffic rushes on fr'intents
These rain-wet highways; one sports car'd derail
Ere we are out of town, left in betrayl
'Non facing all who'd been in his wake thence,
While box-trucks, dump trucks join the race from hence
As cars, vans, pick-ups and ourselves chase bail.
My niece declares she wants to touch as twere
Thet fragile thing called mists, whose haunting cue
Blots out all we'd known heretofore in tour.
Yet likeas spirits none can finger to
Aught satisfaction, we tell her "That's poor--"
And how our souls maunt see, LORD, 'til with You.
08Oct18a
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
NOTE: L4 and on was tricky since you can't very well dictate what the sonnet shall say, but I wanted to note that down for posterity.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXXXV)
Mists shroud the thought of yonder, ghostly, pale
White none pierce 'cept by halves, a keen suspense
In tow as traffic rushes on fr'intents
These rain-wet highways; one sports car'd derail
Ere we are out of town, left in betrayl
'Non facing all who'd been in his wake thence,
While box-trucks, dump trucks join the race from hence
As cars, vans, pick-ups and ourselves chase bail.
My niece declares she wants to touch as twere
Thet fragile thing called mists, whose haunting cue
Blots out all we'd known heretofore in tour.
Yet likeas spirits none can finger to
Aught satisfaction, we tell her "That's poor--"
And how our souls maunt see, LORD, 'til with You.
08Oct18a
It was unsettling, to say the least, to see that sports car half steamily facing whom had been his tail moments before.
Request permission to use this poem