A sonnet. -20th November 2012.


Of petal dust and perishing flower
Upon the barren beds of winters surge,
Calling throughout our sweet elegant hour
And the fresh arid seasons failing verge.
Yet of rising thoughts we fathom beauty
In reticent corners and oaktree shade,
Being blithe of day is springtime duty
T'was winter we smile of mistletoe made.
With boundless pastures of pale silhouette
Come regard of wolfberry and birdsong,
For tomorrows tide of dawn to be met
By our seasons shy bud of right and wrong.
I alone convene muse from falling fate;
Gracing amber twilight of winters late.

Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 681 times
Written on 2012-11-21 at 00:10

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Wonderful, love it!

Nils Teodor The PoetBay support member heart!
A joy to read
Thanks for sharing

Very nicely done. Having written a few, and attempted many more, I respect how your attention to the form doesn't control or force the flow of the poem but enhances and enables it, a thing not easily done.

I believe there to be a place for sonnets in present day poetry. It is our privilege to share in your creation and contribution to the classical styles!