Silence and sonnets…

Yes, I have been quite quiet for some days now.  Of course, I could give reasons for this, including the rampant flu that only seems to morph in form week after week in order to give the average Roman resident as well as tourist an unwelcomed surprise.  I shan’t go into all of that.  Instead I want simply to write about the end result of this period of silence, which has been a decision to try my hand at writing a sonnet.

Some people are aware that I am currently a participant in a poetry workshop at my university.  It is due to my experiences in this workshop that I decided to broaden my poetic scope and try my hand at form (outside of my beloved haiku)–I will state that writing in form has proven quite challenging (but a fun way) to me.

Over the course of the last week, our workshop was on a hiatus while our professor attended a conference in the U.S.  During that time, however, it was my lot (and three others) to prepare poems for our next gathering.  This should not have proven a source of anxiety or consternation given that I have a large body of poetic work that I would love about which I would gratefully receive feedback.  The problem was that I wanted to write something new.  I wanted to see if I could write in forms, such as the sonnet or the villanelle, as my peers had already done.  Thus, Sunday (because I like last minute pressure) I sat down to write a sonnet.

Here is the first version, about which I received feedback yesterday:

Awakening

By Diedré M. Blake

You, like falling leaves upon a lotus

pond.  My fingertips create ripples lost,

fading circles of love circuitous

and I, a heart entombed in winter’s frost,

once; crystal-iced, sunlit, dew-touched; when loved,

unknowingly caught enraptured by id

wrought.  Encompassed as a seed beloved

but stifled by an unnourished earth unbid.

But knowledge and keys to hearts once given

prove only useless tools to fools who know

naught of winter’s cold, harden, unrisen,

unwisely plant seeds in autumn with hope

of a lotus blossom amidst snowfall,

frost, and grasp at love without wherewithal.

With great trepidation I read my sonnet to my peers and professor (who is an exceptional poet of sonnet form).  The reception was mostly positive and the verbal feedback was not overly critical.  The written feedback gave me pause for thought.  Thus, last night I made the following edit.

You, falling leaves upon a lotus

pond.  My fingertips create ripples lost,

fading circles of love circuitous

and I, a heart entombed in winter’s frost.

Then crystal-iced, sunlit, dew-touched, loved.

Unknowingly caught enraptured by id

wrought.  Encompassed as a seed beloved

yet stifled by an unnourished earth unbid.

But knowledge and keys to hearts once given

prove only useless tools to fools who know

naught of winter’s cold, harden, unrisen,

unwisely plant seeds in autumn with hope

of a lotus blossom amidst snowfall,

frost, and grasp at love formed, fading crystals.

So, now I am without a title… I need to find one, but have no clue.  If you have any thoughts or general feedback, I would love to hear it.

Now, off to try my hand at that villanelle!

Until next time..

Best,

D.

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