Midst Gothic crypt and marble marker stones
The grounded fog and fragile mist embrace,
While iron palisade envelops space
Designed to hostel those awaiting tones
Of that last clarion call. Each soul intones
A solemn prayer and hovers in its place,
In a necropolis of style and grace,
That's built to hold this carrion, these bones.
So open gates, my vault awaits my bier
To guard this empty shell that once was me,
That soon will be but bones and mold and dust.
Some strange mortician has reserved the tier
On which for time unknown my coffin be
With me entombed sans love, sans all life's lust.
Author notes
Inspired by a picture of a Victorian cemetery.
In a list
A contest entry
- All Freeverse Writers by masterblaster.
800 points, ended January 28, 2007, 11 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - And Now For Some Poetry by arcxiii.
310 points, ended February 5, 2007, 21 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Monday's Winkling Surprise #57 by Winklings Account.
1800 points, ended March 28, 11 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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An exceptional Italian Sonnet written with skill and knowledge of subject matter and the form.
I am thrilled to see such a beauty selected for Monday's Winkling Surprise. Outstanding poetry dear poet. Absolutely wonderful. ~Pamela
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Two grim verses
of excellent Petrarchan sonnetry.
Your theme is quite evident and is wedded to the tone of solemn facts: we are all doomed bodily to dust. Without love, without lust.
Your use of trios impressed too: crypt, marble, stones;
gates, vault, bier; bones, mold, dust.
This stern poem on mortality does have a volta at line nine: your poem goes from the general fate of all to your personal fate and acceptance, grimly, of it.
Setting, tone, atmosphere, theme and imagery are forged into the one grave as it were but not to lie buried but rather to remind us all that we too can look death in the face and not shrink.
Great poetry. Ron.
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Thank you for the gold trophy! It is apleasure to be a finalist in a contest of yours. Thank you again.
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This reminds me ...
of a poem by Hardy, in which he discusses the death of a drummer boy, but I can't remember the title. In any case, this is a very good poem.
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Jim
"Drummer Hodge" written over 100 years ago. Hardy wrote this elegy for a lad from Dorset who perished in the Boer War.
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Indeed you set up images very well without a picture and these thoughts regarding the last clarion call give me chills. This is a very well composed sonnet. I am not accomplished at sonnets, so have a great respect and admiration for those who write them well. Life has a way of bringing us to terms with our flesh and bones, nes pas?
I enjoyed reading. ~ Karen
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Very nice. Another remarkable sonnet. The imagery was beautiful!
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Outstanding
I liked the amount of detail you have created in this poem with great flow and a sense of artistry. I liked how you created a sense of a gloomy church yard. The form reminded me of a villanelle. I thought this was articulate, very enjoyable to read with a real sense of atmosphere.
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Ah how sad your poem is.. sad and alive with various pictures you gave us in each line and even in each single word. I wish you put the picture inspired you here. I think I would enjoy this poem even more if your do.
I think this poem is again a new form. I like this two lines the most: “On which for time unknown my coffin be/With me entombed sans love, sans all life's lust.”
Thank you auntie for sharing with us and congrasts on wining silver :-)
~Massy~
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This is a sonnet, an old form in the history of poetry. I'm glad you liked it. I did look for the picture and I cannot find it. But I do believe that a reader should be able to create a picture from the imagery in the poem and not set up by a picture. Just my personal belief. Thank you for the comment. Auntie
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Congradulations on the silver.~~Suseann
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Hi, you have a deft hand in writting sonnets, this has a lovely classical feel about it, I was impressed with this write,all the best, Di
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Now that is beautiful.
I cannot point to one part that I like more than another, this is a beautiful write.
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