Poetry - Individual Sonnets


Still I Dream Of Winter | Back to Top

The Spring It Is When Some to War Are Bound [1 of 5]
[Lady's Voice]

The spring it is when some to war are bound.
The summer full of fray and battle's din.
I dream of when the leaves first dance the ground,
For autumn heralds home my disparate kin.
As shadows fill the eyes of youths now men,
The winter fills the hall with tales and tears.
Soon war shall see them leave us once again.
I dread the spring; the warmth that fuels my fears.
I swore to spare my heart the pain and grief -
that loving one who wars would doubtless grant.
Yet fate is cruel, and offers no relief.
Deny my love? I youthful vows recant!
Though spring may take my true love far from me,
I pray for winter's grace, most faithfully.

Hark! Hear Ye Not The Call To Arms, My Friends?  [2 of 5]
[Lord's Voice]

Hark! Hear ye not the call to arms, my friends?
And feel ye not the stirings in thy heart?!
For want of peace, I make no man amends,
I yearn to hear the horns that sound the start!
To know that each new breath may be my last!
To all my years of toiled efforts test!
To know each day the stars my fate has cast,
And give my all, and have my all be best!
And yet, what new drum beats in me alive,
And shakes the fierce convictions of my soul?
The god of war my prayers I would deny!
For Venus sings! And I her songs extol.
Alas, my love, the melting of the snow...
With spring, war calls, but loath I am to go.

I Fear This Path is Fraught with Peril’s Strife  [3 of 5]
[The castle is taken - Lady's Voice]

I fear this path is fraught with peril’s strife,
And yet I know no word will bid thee yield.
Though I for thee would sacrifice my life,
I loath to see thee lain upon thy shield.
Thou sayest, “Trust,” and I can but obey,
For what course other may these shackles chart?
“I come for thee!” thy wraithly vow doth weigh
'tis comfort not to live, and lose my heart.
So fearful each new dawn that I draw breath
My hero will a hero’s end soon see
I tempt no longer thy most valiant death.
Come not for love, my own, and not for me;
Though heaven's gates forthwith may know me not,
My death ends now the risk thy love hath wrought.

How Couldst Thou Think That E'en Death Could Part  [4 of 5]
[The Lady has taken her own life to spare her Lord's. Lord's Voice:]

How couldest thou believe that death could part-
the half of me that makes my spirit whole?
My light, my life, my love, thou art my heart;
thy absence the damnation of my soul.
Thou thoughtest well to spare my end. Well, Nay!
I shall not bide when thou hast gone from me!
Thy sacrifice shant spare me from the fray.
"I'll come for thee," for all eternity!
For e'er before thy end I fervent swore -
thou wouldest ne'er in solitude be bound.
And through that host I wrent and wounded tore -
unto thy last most waithful sorrowed sound.
Though I deny the light that bids I fly
It is for thee I heaven's gates deny

Lo! Hast Thou Heard the Ghostly Siren's Calls  [5 of 5]
[Narrative/Summary Voice]

Lo! Hast thou heard the ghostly siren's calls -
when by the moonlit hour walks the maid?
From out that ruined tower's haunted halls,
Unto the field beyond the palisade?
And Lo! Yet still, with each new summer's dawn,
Have yet you seen the soldier in his field,
who by the moonlit hour battles on,
and each new morn, rests on a hero's shield?
Tis said in winter sounds their joyful tune.
Their laughter fills each aging stone, full store.
But springtime's mournful melody is soon -
their sad lament, till autom comes once more.
Though cursed, for half the year the two are blessed,
Until the day, as one, the two may rest.

Our Kingdom is Renowned Three Fold in Virtue's Grace | Back to Top
Ever Onward | Back to Top
Shall I now forsake this road of freedom
No more to wander, sing, or truly play?
Return to where my struggle to Become
Dissolves as I accept what others say?
There are those who doubt the souls' song
For fear of darkness choose dark guised as light.
The rhythm in my heart beats proud and strong
No shadow cast compares, nor any fright!
They laugh at me and question My desires!
They say, "Such hopes are nurtured in death's womb."
Forsake the road to which my heart aspires
Or likely first the road will be my doom.
Mayhap the road to dreaming high consumes.
For me, my journey Ever On resumes.

At My Poor Wits End! | Back to Top
I often ponder, at my poor wit's end
Why God 'gainst sanity created man!
What likened sort would rather break than bend?!
For Fear of comprimise, all reason ban.
If I say "East," my husband Westward goes,
However harshly asked or kindly told.
If a simply task I ask, Heaven Knows,
That Follow through is greater prized than gold!
And Yet... So fierce! When riggid reason rests-
Is Love, and true affection for my mate;
The other, who, against all said protests-
Is perfect. That, no logic may debate.
I know not why Love Sins in sanity,
But well I love he who confuses me.

Which Way Folly? | Back to Top
Barren strands of heat and sand stretch forth-
And bid me pause in Reinvention's wake.
A compass once so fiercely pointed north,
But now, alone, I find I southward make.
Am I running from my soul to save my heart,
Or rather am I seeking that yet found?
Escaping from the pain of half a start,
Or sighting simply soul-sought surer ground?
Navigation's fool am I, most ailed
And time alone grants truth in purest form.
If "lessons learned" is life's pursuit, I sailed
And sail again to face a calmer storm.
I wonder now which rules me: Hope or Fear?
Do I follow folly far or near?

To Loues to Liue or Die. But How to Steere? | Back to Top

Dedicated to a dear friend, who survived heartbreak and found the strength to keep sailing…

In lak lvst shallows vows once hallowed prooue
Bvt mist to fog a faithless rocky shore.
The ardent compasse of mine sovl remoues;
I covrt too close thy false loue, wanting more.
I needs mvst warre the cvrrent of mine heart,
For knowe I well its tavnting dread-doomed lot.
Yet all who feare loues mortall kiss mvst part-
With reisvn. For one finds bvt what is sovght.
Lo, navigations foole am I, most ailed.
Bvt time and God wilt calm an angry sea.
If lessons learned are lifes pvrsevtes, I sailed
And shall again when thov hast gone from me.
I wonder now which rvles me: hope or feare?
To loues to liue or die. Bvt how to steere?
 

The Hart, So Much a Fragile Thing is Lost | Back to Top

The Hart, so much a fragile thing, is lost;
A gentle creature and too often pained.
She risks so freely, heedless of the cost.
What is not ventured cannot e’er be gained.
A youthful thing, though scared or marred she be,
To hope she finds her path at each new trail.
The winding of her guarded trek is free;
With each new step, a thrill, both fierce and frail.
But in the forest lies temptation’s lie,
That breaks the bonds that love and light align.
To heart may take the fears we fight, and cry-
“Thy love is false, and never equal mine!”
Though dark the wooded path of doubt may seem,
How bright doth true love ‘gainst the darkness gleam.