Sonnet 12: “Whispers In the Dark”
Traveling down the rosy briar track,
Snaring branches trip and thorns do pierce
The heart, and wound it so I can’t turn back
To brighter places, where my love burnt fierce.
And yet, I must continue to my fate
With ruined heart, where briars plant their seed;
Where laughing flowery spirits watch it bleed
Into the famished ground to satiate
The earthy realms from which desire springs;
From which the bell of persecution rings!
But when I sleep, I dream of other things,
And in this quiet depth, my conscience sings -
I catch a trace of music in the air;
Hear whispers that my soul still lingers there.
The Injury in the Orchard
I did not cry at the swift, final blow,
Though the full-force rocked my body and my soul,
And my heart stopped, and the red current flow
Obscured my vision and pillowed my fall.
As I lay, mute, staring at the ceiling,
I did not question if I deserved it;
I watched my floating thoughts, only feeling
Stillness. And the darkness - I yearned for it.
It never came. Lights danced before my eyes;
Tauntingly, my soul recognized beauty.
Your face hovers; the questioning word dries
In the air of your silence. The fruit tree
Was tended by my own beseeching hand;
The fall like nothing you could understand.
Tamara Simpson is a current student University of Western Australia who spends most of her time writing poetry and fiction when she should be studying. She has had previous work published in the Road Not Taken Journal of Formal Poetry, Every Day Poets Magazine, and Open Minds Quarterly. She is, by matter of course, a hopeless romantic.
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