April 10, 2020

Pentecost

sparkThe room is still; the hearth is cold and dark.

A rancid smell of ashes fills the air.

The candles stand neglected.  Windows stare

Like blinded eyes unlit by any spark.

How dead this place – no life has left its mark

Upon the icy floor, the table bare;

No breeze, no breath, no sound, no movement there.

No grave could be as bleak, no tomb as stark.

 

A scratch, a flare – its spark dispels the gloom.

From candles, dancing leaves of light aspire.

Their brightness fills the corners of the room;

Dead ashes glow, and warmth breathes from the fire.

My lifeless hearth has blossomed into flame,

And in the room a voice calls out my name.

Comments

  1. Robert F says

    So Damaris, you’re a New Formalist? Nice.

    • Unintentionally. I don’t know what a New Formalist is, but I’ve been writing sonnets for 40 years.

  2. Robert F says

    40 years? Well then, you’re not such a new New Formalist.

    New Formalism is a movement among some poets in the last 10 to 20 years that has reintroduced poetic devices like meter and rhyme to contemporary poetry.

  3. That’s beautiful.

  4. Christiane says

    ‘sonnet’ form is a classic . . .

    this is beautiful, Damaris . . . thank you for sharing it with us

  5. I can feel myself there…..lovely work!

  6. Excellent, Damaris!

  7. Beautiful, Damaris. Thank you.