Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
  Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
  One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart's quiet home,
  To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
  Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come.
And so because you love me, and because
  I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
    Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
    In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
  Of time and change and mortal life and death.
Onoma Jun 2018
in a desert pegged to a

loadstar, whose sands try

to scrape free.

with a sound the wind

scarce believes could

empty it out.

only loincloth and limbs

move toward her...with

lips the sun has lingered on.

for all his moving, he takes

her face in his hands...

setting down his mouth's

word on her closed eyes.

eyelids raw with

interlacing quivers.

visions of water.
adeline Aug 2023
from a young age i was told
of the power of words.
to watch my mouth,
for fear of seeing the horns of
the stag i called.

i called.

i called you my loadstar,
for i wish to never lose
sight of you.
i called you my loadstar,
for you guide
my every thought.

i fear the horns,
for a ship can never reach
its loadstar.

— The End —