Although the sonnet is a form that has fallen out of form over the past few decades, there has been renewed interest in it from the New Formalism movement. Rather than go for the free verse, iambic pentameter characteristics of that kind of work, I’ve made an attempt at a more traditional style of sonnet. It was really, very difficult.
Spring Sonnet I
Under a tower block, dark and oppressed
Stands I, a flower, looking to the sky.
A gloomy gray night gives way to a sigh
spring dawn is breaking – a winter’s repressed.
Wind rushes by as I wait for sunrise
Blowing a cut grass scent through the fresh air,
A dewy morning breeze ruffles my hair –
the world is my garden, daylight my prize.
Petal’s of yellow erupt in the rays,
For months I’ve been missing, hidden away
But now joy of joys, I’m back, here to stay,
winter is over, we have longer days!
Blooming is looming, pruning comes too fast
but now I’m happy it’s springtime at last.