Confession time? When I wrote this, I kind of forgot how the structure of a Shakespearean sonnet was supposed to go. It’s ababcdcdefefgg, rather than abbacddceffegg- oops? I think I got it confused with the Petrarchan kind too, abbaabbacdecde. Messy, messy brain. Don’t even get me started on Spenserian sonnets. Jeez. 14 lines, 140 syllables, way too many ways to organize that nonsense.
Sonnet of Pain
Pain in my joints comes and goes like the tide
It swells and jabs at me, icy and burning
There is no relief with seasons changing
No calm sanctuary where I can hide.
A symphony of suffering for me
The rising and falling of storm-tossed waves
No blissful unconsciousness for me saves
From thundering blistering agony.
The crescendo builds, the water rises
Kettledrums in my bones and in my blood
I cannot keep my head above the flood
When all my joints are trapped in vises.
The symphony ends, the waters recede,
But pain never stops as soon as I need.
(C) Bridget Noonan, 2011, 2012.
The transition from autumn to winter was hard here. It went from mild to omg-wtf-it’sfreezing. This came out of that.
This poem came out of a great night. From about one to two in the morning, there was a huge thunderstorm over my place. It was amazing. Haven’t done it justice, but this is as close as I could get. Nobody on the road, nobody out walking, just me communing with nature even in the city. Awesome.
The leaves are talking in their sleep
While raindrops soothe their slumber
And lightning promises vengeance
On the wind that disturbed them.
The storm begins in earnest
Thunder speaks in tongues over rooftops
Torrents of water drench the cracking pavement.
The weary traveller, crouch
In narrow doorways to watch
The many-textured sky split
By light, by sound, in solitude.
This is feeling alive!
In the midst of summer’s first downpour
I breathe raindrops, wet earth and thunder
My heartbeat the only reminder
That I am not cloud, or water, or earth
Or the tumultuous sky above.
My page is lit by blue flashes
As I shield my notebook from the rain
And wonder at the fierce beauty around me.
© Bridget Noonan, 2011.
Sorry I haven’t been around much. Stuff going on. Life happens.