Uncategorized

On Hope: A sonnet.

Grandchild of God.

Out from the dense death-deep dark space

Hope came to me with steady a pace:

Adorned with a halo like rings of Saturn,

Blowing on her conch she announced my turn,

Her parts were covered with the mother of pearl,

Her hair wild and fiery was in a perpetual whirl.

She held out a vile vase wound with lace,

With downcast eyes thrust it to my face,

In the vase nettles were chocking a rose.

Scratching my stinging skin from this vision I arose,

To find myself in a train’s tail end wagon,

My skin I peeled and the illusions were gone,

Out the window the train derailed – I held on.

View original post

Categories: Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s