Sonnet II — “Laid to Waste” — A Modern Sonnet
A brief explanation, because I usually don’t write sonnets…
I posted my first sonnet for the EIF Poetry Challenge #1. By popular demand, I’ve decided to post another. This isn’t the one I talked about in my explanation about the first sonnet. Instead, I decided to brush off the old iambic pentameter and take her for a spin. In other words, I wanted to see if I still had the magic. You can be the judge… This can also serve to showcase how my work and style have changed from my junior year of high school to today.
Sonnet II — “Laid to Waste”
Out cries the owl on a harvest moon.
His piercing tone alerts the farmer’s hand —
the reaping time has come and come too soon.
Out cries the wife and hurries to the stand.
The sickle flies with silver flash and down
it falls, the stalk, the gold and gleaming thing,
with staring eyes and silent mouth, no crown —
but round the shaking finger is a ring.
The wife cries out, takes to his side, eyes wild —
and tears her hair and keens and wails and beats
her breast and faints away. Their little child
sits silently. The men draw up the sheets.
And golden days are laid to waste and rest
Beneath the setting sun in crimson west.
Notes
I hope you enjoyed this sonnet! If so, please let me know in the comments. As I said, I don’t write them often — and this one was like dusting off the wheels — so if you want to see more of them from me, let me know. A little encouragement goes a long way!
And, as always, thank you for reading!
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