Regretful stance in essence of whispered tombs.

( The Italian Sonnet. )

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My dearest, I do not forget your name
or whispered promises, tomorrow’s breeze
carries still your message, stand tall, fly free,
ageless spirit unburden fickle shame.
Resistance, for wild souls remain untamed.
Allow never again this heart to freeze
To love in abandoned hues will appease
lost embers of oceans eternal flames.
Yet, I feel the drumming echo of fear
pure porcelain pieces scattered across
the floor, vulnerability so near.
To not give is such a regretful loss
awakened I search the celestial sphere
for regret, is too much a haunting cost.

 

Karen Hayward* ©2017

Image and words

Wild Ginger.

English / Shakespearean Sonnet

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Afresh, the past a lingering shadow

lost flowers among a field of old weeds.

Creeping through life’s journey, poison grows

for blossom always, do the fears we feed.

Alas, I must abstain from dark beliefs.

Water not those drowning in fallen tears.

We shall tend our petals, water our leaves.

With love, adoration, our future clears.

This bloom upon my heart, your honeyed touch

loves gently imposed photosynthesis.

Clarity!  I see you have tended much

beyond dark shadows of lingering mist.

Be us not lost flowers in life’s treason,

Be us weeds, loves blossom beyond reason.

Karen Hayward ©2017 (Words)

Michael J. Garland ©2017 (Image)