letting go of yet another dirty day
I had to write a sonnet and a paragraph explaining it for Study of Poetry. On to the suckage:
She watches the Daytimes fade gently away
Encased inside a pale green light -
Where Sunset saunters from old and dirty day
And Moon casts haloed shadows on the night.
His wings are fast, His gallop straight but thin
As like some legend He never truly is there.
Perhaps a history is there to win;
She’ll wait for Him in passing sinking prayer.
She, in emerald times of ancient leisure,
Still dreams of a white-sailed ship in a world of gold.
To sail with morning to lands both new and pure -
And He a statue in her patient hold.
But now explorers, sailors, merchants still
Are Her exotic worlds until, until.
I tried to write an English sonnet, mostly because I think that form makes a lot more sense. I wrote this as a sonnet because I have so rarely seen sonnets about women longing for some unattainable man. It is almost always the other way around, at least in the old sonnets. And there are several clichés that seem to be in many of them - there is usually a metaphor using nature or the passing of time, time is wasted, the woman being sought is so perfect she seems inhuman, men profess their love brazenly, and in most of them, lovers intend to be loyal. So I wanted to have time pass slowly without being wasted, have a woman wait patiently and quietly as she longs for a fictional man, but have her replace him with others until she can find him. Women who were unfaithful in sonnets, even to men who were not their lovers, were looked down upon. So I just tried to turn everything around and use the mythical characters that seem to be in most sonnets in a different way.
She watches the Daytimes fade gently away
Encased inside a pale green light -
Where Sunset saunters from old and dirty day
And Moon casts haloed shadows on the night.
His wings are fast, His gallop straight but thin
As like some legend He never truly is there.
Perhaps a history is there to win;
She’ll wait for Him in passing sinking prayer.
She, in emerald times of ancient leisure,
Still dreams of a white-sailed ship in a world of gold.
To sail with morning to lands both new and pure -
And He a statue in her patient hold.
But now explorers, sailors, merchants still
Are Her exotic worlds until, until.
I tried to write an English sonnet, mostly because I think that form makes a lot more sense. I wrote this as a sonnet because I have so rarely seen sonnets about women longing for some unattainable man. It is almost always the other way around, at least in the old sonnets. And there are several clichés that seem to be in many of them - there is usually a metaphor using nature or the passing of time, time is wasted, the woman being sought is so perfect she seems inhuman, men profess their love brazenly, and in most of them, lovers intend to be loyal. So I wanted to have time pass slowly without being wasted, have a woman wait patiently and quietly as she longs for a fictional man, but have her replace him with others until she can find him. Women who were unfaithful in sonnets, even to men who were not their lovers, were looked down upon. So I just tried to turn everything around and use the mythical characters that seem to be in most sonnets in a different way.