Sonnetville

original sonnet by sonnetville
dedicated to Heidi, with friendship and respect

By heav’nly grace, her outlook she’s maintained
Through challenges of life so bravely faced:
Sometimes, in losing love, a vict’ry’s gained.
With fingers on the keys so lightly placed
The iv’ries tinkle out her song of joy
In gratitude to God who gave her life
And blessed her with a precious little boy.
Though some would stab her soul as with a knife
And treat her son with shameful disregard—
Such sin should be unheard of in our land—
She finds to do what’s right is seldom hard.
At antique desk she grips with steady hand
   A fine quill pen and thus begins to write:
   “Not all is grey; some things are black and white.”

(c) 2012 sonnetville.com

birdcagesribcages:

I am formless always.
like horror or ghosts
or o’s without edges.

You were the character-the clutter
on a desk I cleared away-
the writer killed you off for convenience

with a pretty girl, never as beautiful as when you told me you loved her.

birdcagesribcages:

Like days of the week, I am
seven people.
I have headaches and dreams
like mystics
here.
What you shovel
and
the medicocrity you
applaud
means
I am
Tuesday.

Reblogged from birdcagesribcages

birdcagesribcages:

You’re not so special that loss is only yours
and anger
and a (capacity) to outgrow
your skin
doesn’t Always mean
you’re full of fire.

There is never much to celebrate
but
the sky is a barn of straw
set alight, set aflame
I throw in your pictures
(I throw in the frames)