Words by Soberflight

poetry and musings

Tag: poetry challenge

So Long Ago, A Rondeau

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So long ago, it was a happy time.

My childhood days had seemed so sweet, sublime;

I couldn’t see the trials and troubles met,

The worries, woes, that made my parents fret.

I spent my days at play in warm sunshine.

I had been sheltered from a world of crime

And cities filled with sin and filth and grime.

My innocence had not been shattered yet

So long ago.

But I grew up, and change had come with time,

And playful days became a slow, hard, climb.

My heart became full of fear, shame, regret,

And disappointment from goals never met.

I keep looking back at my life defined

So long ago.

Monochrome, A Kyrielle Sonnet

 

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Monochrome, A Kyrielle Sonnet

 

The color in my sky has drained,

Every brilliant color strained

As if by some fantastic sieve.

Fall’s reds and yellows gone. I grieve.

 

There’s black, and white, and cloudy gray,

No color to this wintry day,

No vestige left of orange leaves,

Fall’s reds and yellows gone. I grieve.

 

A touch of blue sky would be nice,

But all is bleak and cold as ice.

No sun will golden warmth conceive,

Fall’s reds and yellows gone. I grieve.

 

The colors in my sky has drained,

Falls reds and yellows gone. I grieve.

Autumn, a villanelle

 

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Autumn, a villanelle

 

The morning dew has turned to frost

As summer fades away to fall.

Too late, fragile crops are lost.

 

The windows graced with ice embossed,

Deflecting southbound geese’s call.

The morning dew has turned to frost.

 

Tomatoes on my vines are tossed,

No chance that they’ll turn red at all.

Too late, fragile crops are lost.

 

Revisiting a stream I’ve crossed,

I watch the steamy waterfall.

The morning dew has turned to frost.

 

Milkweed pods release their floss,

Grapevines wither on the wall,

Too late, fragile crops are lost.

 

The stores will raise their produce cost

As supplies from farmers fall.

The morning dew has turned to frost,

Too late, fragile crops are lost.

 

Dawn: a ghazal

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Dawn, a ghazal

Darkness fell away before the dawn,

Letting gentle rays restore the dawn.

The birds of morning shook off the dew

And sang their songs to adore the dawn.

In semi-sleep, eyes barely open,

My first thoughts were to abhor the dawn.

But the glory of the morning sky

Grew and I could not ignore the dawn.

In sober flight my heart reached for it,

Draped it on my soul and wore the dawn.