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Seed of Hope
Late summer, when the sun sets in the field,
we walked, anxious, down the green, grassy slope
to the bench, a seat of inspiration.
Low in the sky, a cloud became a shield,
I fell under shadow, your loves elope
as someone recites your incantation.
Disgorging the pain, long held - now unsealed,
our distance grew, spirits began to grope
through the heavy winter months of ashen.
Now, light lingers, the snow begins to yield,
uncovering the pearl of treasured hope,
a seed of spring green, our love refreshen.
Consent to begin, no hurts left to wield,
sharing a new season - to be revealed.
©Eusebeia Philos 2013
Written as a sonnet for dVerse~Poets Pub on Form for All: On Midwinter, Magic Realism, and a Trireme Sonnet
Madness came upon me
while sitting on a park bench.
Lost in the nether drearies,
I heard a voice faintly familiar,
In an essentially strange form.
Unknown words in my thoughts,
words never heard, shockingly felt,
left impressions with no understanding.
I blinked on the park bench,
hoping to see the terrible voice
bouncing, accusing in my skull,
placing weight upon my heart.
Tight the band was drawn and
narrowly I turned inside to hide
the thought of what I heard
to be the madness come upon me.
It was a sullen angel that descended
from the burning clouds of late day
summer sky, to sit beside me on the bench,
giving black counsel in a breath that
formerly could entice me to heaven's gate.
Now, only was the grayish picture
left that sketched a story sadly told,
when madness came upon me
while sitting on a park bench.
©Eusebeia Philos 2013
