sonnet 8

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  • Lost Love

    sonnet 8

    This Death, this time, is not like all the rest.
    Certain deaths spark new life: this one will not.
    Before when we killed love, within our nest
    We bled the bad blood out in time and shot
    The lambs between their brows. But you’ll have forgot
    By now those times we lived for chest to chest,
    Forsaking this pleading beat. So your lot
    Is quite simple. I already have fought
    The hard battle when in my glass I slipped
    The dew you drank, threw back, and I, I tripped
    On the cool chill, the exhilaration
    Of triumph over treason, as I gripped
    The bitter chalice with motivation
    To end as you, dead to all sensation.

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    sorcererofmagic commented on sonnet 8

    05-06-2009

    An interesting sonnet. Quite different.

    catarino commented on sonnet 8

    05-05-2009

    'those times we lived for chest to chest'- Devastating...

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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