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Sonnet Journey Poems | Sonnet Poems About Journey

These Sonnet Journey poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Journey. These are the best examples of Sonnet Journey poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Sonnet | |

Et Portae Inferi Non Valebit, Gates of Hell shall not Prevail

Et Portæ Inferi Non Valebit
(And the gates of hell will not prevail)

Gates of Hell shall never ever prevail
promulgation of Truth forever stands.
Soul and Spirit each rings a sounding bell
Fate's ruthless results judges all the lands.

Vanities of all men foolishly praised
Spirit's dark desires bearing bitter fruit.
Rejection of He that was truly raised
lies and corruption are the stolen loot.

Righteous hearts look to Heavenly skies
sincere prayers, deliver such bless reward.
Mankind races onward using blinded eyes
to an ending very bitter and hard.

In the dark shadow of this evil world.
Our Creator's redemption has been hurled!

Robert J. Lindley, 10-11-2014

Syllables Per Line:  10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10  
Total # Syllables:  140  
Total # Lines:  17  (Including empty lines)  
Total # Words:  93

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Sonnet | |

A Penny For Your Thoughts

 Contest entry: 
 Forms: Sonnet (a,b,a,b) (c,d,c,d) (e,f,e,f) (g,g) 
 Three stanzas and a couplet(a summary) ..
 Ten syllables per line

 You may search and find a saying to inspire you please 
 include the quote on your work..
 Please use_ A Penny For Your Thoughts as your title..

A Penny For Your Thoughts

 Father said, son listen to that church bell
 Life just may beat you into submission
 Or drag you deep into a living hell
 To avoid that seek truth as your mission

 Sound of truth rings so very loud and clear
 Let goodness be your greatest living guide
 On that path the Light casts away all fear
 Your love and deeds you will not have to hide

 Son asks, dad how can I always be sure
 Will there not be days of terrible doubt
 My son, live your life seeking to be pure
 Then his love you will never be without

 Tis' the courage to continue that counts
 In this race , best we use our finest mounts

 Robert J. Lindley, 03-14-2015
 Poem contest entry...
 Results shown:

 Poem Syllable Counter Results 
 Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 
 Total # Syllables: 140 Total 
 # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines) 
 Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: 
 N/A Total # Words: 115

 Nationality: English
 Type: Statesman
 Born: November 30, 1874 
 Died: January 24, 1965 

 "Success is not final, failure is 
 not fatal: it is the courage to 
 continue that counts."

 Winston Churchill

 My quote chosen comes from the famous and brilliant
 quote from the epically great Sir Winston Churchill.
 I had to slightly rephrase the quote to meet the ten syllable 
 requirement of the sonnet form used.
Strikes me that the deepest thought we can ever have is this....
Where do we go after this life ends and how do we find that path?
My poem gives the answer that so many reject...

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Sonnet | |

Early Winter Farm Chores

Early Winter Farm Chores

Shall I muse at midnight on the morning sun
now hiding very far beyond the pale.
Dread farmyard chores needing to be done
as morn sun rises over hill and dale.

Warm in bed, staying would be a disgrace
when winter marches in far too soon.
Tarry late and hot glowing embers embrace
to rise late only in a lazy afternoon!

Or instead jump from this warm , soft bed
racing on out when red rooster crows.
Quickly getting pigs and chickens well fed
all long before the cold winter snows!

Up early before morning's sweet sunlight.
Another farming day, another long fight.

Robert J. Lindley, 10-01-2015

Note-- Edited an older poem from back in the 80's.
Shortened into a sonnet..

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Limerick | |

Jan's Sonnet Sedan - Tribute Limerick

When an Ode Operator named Jan
hits the road in her Sonnet sedan,
she keeps Lines in their lanes
riding Rhyme's rough terrains
and drives home every Poe'm that she can

This limerick was written 
for my Soup buddy Jan Allison. 
Thank you for your playful 
input and positive support - 
you are appreciated! xoxo

Copyright © Lycia Harding

Details | Sonnet | |

River Sonnet, Number One

River Sonnet, Number One

When river cuts its first great course
Carved into racing curves, solid stone.
Too late, for the much needed divorce
Great power over vast time was shown.
Where rushing waters now swiftly flow
Life swelling in its tumbling currents.
Hungry ocean awaits its endless goal
Always thirsting for rain fed torrents.

Whether sandy beaches or rocky shores
Wildlife seek its many fertile bays.
Man looks on and in great awe adores
Its wild and many snake dancing ways.

Racing into gasping oceans and seas.
So often refusing dry desert pleas.

Robert J. Lindley, 06-27-2015

Note: River Sonnet Number Two, fragment 

Against a sad life's extra heavy toll
rivers can soothe man's aching soul.
We love the crashing way they roll
splashing fish- cereal in their bowl.

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Sonnet | |

Autumn Revisited , A Look Back

Autumn Revisited , A Look Back

Sitting on mossy stone, I watch Autumn fly
no respite from Winter's friend
Over heading the wild birds soar on by
almost time for this season's end.

This stream , banks covered in green moss 
shall very soon flow deeper and cold
This forest will reflect more of this loss
musings I find deeper as I grow old!

What of the sunny Summer days, memory fair?
a short gust in a fast receding storm
Bears scouting for coming Winter's hiding lair
survival searching now is the prime norm.

As Autumn prepares for Winter's hard blast
Slowing moving Time suddenly races so fast!

(EDITED)- Typo in the closing verse, "Rime" was 
A TYPO--correct is "Time". Old keyboard has letters missing. lol

Robert J. Lindley, 08-13-2015

Note--Time to dread Winter. This seasonal apprehension 
goes back to my childhood. Back then Winters were 
brutal on we kids without coats and proper protection
from its blasts.. Yet we survived and later prospered.

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Sonnet | |

Old And Holding Aces

Old And Holding Aces

I am old, youth lost does so deeply hurt
no more whiskey drinking brawls,
now slow and tired, feeling older than dirt
I no longer chase the pretty gals at all.

I am old, bad knees and snow on my head
no more , wild nights out dancing,
watch late news, now fall asleep instead
gone forever are my days out prancing.

I am old, can see the doorway awaiting
slow stepping my way over there,
Love-life over, no more sweet mating
I now can only sadly look and stare.

I am old, just damn glad to have now made it!
Do I now, hold onto last two aces or do I trade it?

Robert J. Lindley. 08-21-2015 

Note- Sonnet mixture of truth , humor and 
a sad realty!
Poetic leeway employed in the line about -
"Love-life over, no more sweet mating"
As trust me, thankfully that is not  problem at all. 

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Sonnet | |

Bucket List

To see the face of earth through angels’ eyes
To lie afloat on cotton clouds ‘neath the skies
And hear noth but the whistling of winds
Which encircle me like soft feathered wings

Too long these feet of lead have held to ground
On stone and porous clay abound
While my spirit yearns to ascend the heights
My bucket list consists of one sky jump flight

To soar the blue skies o’er land and sea
And fly solo as a bird, keen and care free
Where noise and din then become dearth
While my eyes feast on the radiant colors of earth

And as fields of golden wheat sway to and fro
I softly land on mounds of hay below

Annalise Brigham

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick

Details | Sonnet | |



Near somber guards, units of children heap 
dead leaves, naive to any else fallen.
Friend, you chuckle, but your posture speaks
of duty on this day of contradictions.

Firefighters bow heads in silent paean, 
while polished trucks stand at attention.
Families have again answered the call
to attend this festival, so uncommon.

Here, laughter rings around the memorial
for exuberance must never be doused,
Gloriously wrought, a sculpture of angels
commiserates with each mourning house.

You say, I see valor in lives that inspire.
 I see heroes and their lines of fire.

*For Craig


Surreal, the way a contortionist knots
himself as the escape artist breaks free.  
Uptown, buskers beckon with what-naughts,
drawing thousands. Candyland, sighs New-Dali

at its epicenter, his true element,
and he takes it in: the sword swallower,
blindfolds, jugglers, clowns miming laments,
fire-fed gals, stilted-men and tots taller 

on shoulders. This carnival can endear,
turn heads, but only one with a seer-heart
studies the music box dancer, then swears
that she spins perfect webs with street-smarts.

Mirroring that swivel, awed by his entourage,
He becomes centrum to his own collage.

*For Chan, fully alive in Heaven.


Your brows are up. The Princess Cinema
is not your choice. C'mon, I don't fit here,
you snort. You, with all your charisma 
and kindness, stand in a short line, fearing

boredom or worse ... pretense. Promise me,
that we aren't about to wallow through
subtitles, you sigh.  Give me clarity,
a story, something that I can relate to.

But the charm catches you by surprise,
a star-struck atmosphere, the seats are new
and the popcorn is still warm. Friendly eyes
laugh, then amusement streams from you

for these Global TV spots simply delight
like each snippet that you joyfully write.

*For Andrea


There be Scots as farrrrrr as the eye can see.
Brawn calves and bright kilts delight lasses 
while pipers swagger out of the pub, tipsy.
Your smile broadens as a caber is tossed

end over end. Then, across the glen, highland                      
dancers in ghillies beckon with hearty flings.
Auch, it’s hot yet heather dare no’ wilt. Clans
gather, roguishly rib each other, as wool spins

in wheels. Aye, the romance can fair overwhelm
e’en the sensible. Worse for we, the fanciful. 
Come, here’s the tea tent. Let soft fiddles calm
as we nibble oatcakes. Tartans and tunes pull

heartstrings. We sit raptly, lost in Brigadoon,
put pen to napkin to let wee thistles bloom. 

* For Francine


Rustling maples break vows of silence,
naturally. As pleased, spears of hyacinth  
worship breezes with such soft reverence
that we give pause in this living labyrinth. 

Nothing here is still; wood thrush reverb
good news and cicadas buzz testimonials.
Nearby, a creek mumbles, Word-Word
while squirrels glorify their bounty. All

is abuzz with joy, save for the shade
under a weathered cross; it’s emptiness
resurrects veneration. A butterfly wades
the sudden hush, lands on your hand, nests.

My friend, you lift it to wood, sympathizing 
on bent knee, speechlessly evangelizing. 

*For Brian


Your eyes drink the hues of the Shisha Lounge:
art on walls, art brewing over charcoal.
This coffee ceremony is on the fringe,
far from the pallid and staid. I’ve marveled

at these dear blends, how culture can transcend 
barriers and ignorance. We order too much.
Tibsy, zignie, timtimo.. injera bends 
to each spiced delicacy as our plates touch. 

Gone is this haven where pleasure was shared.
Still, I’ll bring you there. Scribe, man of integrity,
sit with me. Exhale poetry. Imbibe tribal air. 
Mine, this moment and mine, this memory

but that mystifying brew, that receptive floor,
the smoke refined by deep respect… each are yours.  

*For my cuz, Scribe


A warbling vireo hops from oak to elm.
Your gaze wanders, too. This amphitheater
hosts the lyrical, almost overwhelms,
for beyond the mill ruins, the Grand River

is deep in thought, reflecting. It’s as though myth
lives; Summerland has come to the hillside 
where weathered fieldstones beguile the impish
to dance. They do or else tin flutes will chide.

Though cozy the spot,  the world's at our feet.
Tanned toes can not help but tap. Strong is the lure
of pipes and those songs that dulcimers keep.
When night softly falls, one group brings rapture. 

They sing until stars tire and all are hoarse
like poets rousing words to supplicate verse.

*For Carrie


Pure pageantry, how publishers' banners
wave over tents. Flocks of readers graze
on glossy trades, leaflets, hardcovers,
chapbooks. My friend, a true gent, stays
his ground. Maybe, it is the press of page;
Its forthright weave petitions for slants,
favors unique fonts, yet gilds no edge,
sees no need for illustration, just verdant
language. I did not intend to read
over his shoulder. He grins good-naturedly,
tweed makes an allowance. Each line, poetry,
he praises and I still my chatter. We feed
on gems, unrushed, but their brilliance spurs
a verbose woman and a man of his word.

*For David

Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan

Details | Sonnet | |

Shadow Mist, Fear Of Past Sins

Shadow Mist, Fear Of Past Sins

Ghostly trails, shadows whirl in and out.
Trees line sad dream in very deep rows.
Alas! Danger lurks ahead, no time to scout,
Daybreak may hold red meat for the crows.

Where you see ahead a bend holds new fear.
Echoes call out, watch- remember the past.
You shudder deeply, eye finds a lost tear,
Pray for help because evil moves in so fast!

Sun sets and the darkness looms thick ahead.
Falling rays wrapping the shadows in haze.
Mind screams out, go away-you are now dead,
running along, a fool in a mind lost daze!

Shadowy mist, crowding you into its sphere.
You choke on cowardice, brought by deep fear!

Robert J. Lindley, 09-09-2015

Note- A Dark Sonnet on a blind and lost soul
that was gifted light... 

He that was once lost, found a key.
He that once hated all-
Found he also hated me....
Answer came, when faith finally made a call.

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Sonnet | |

Let Fate Render A Verdict So Fair

Let Fate Render A Verdict So Fair

Let God judge such past wicked ways
 cast stale food from dirty trays
So much molded bread happily ate
 a leper in a rich famishing fate

Let this Soul eat out of its heart
 pray love and spirit never part
To many deeds born of living hell
 some so bad one shall never tell

Let this Life venture a fine course
 consider deep regrets and source
To little care embraced in youth
 memories steeped in wishful truth

Let Fate render a verdict so fair
Pray love gifts a verdict to share

Robert J. Lindley, 08-13-2014

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Sonnet | |

A Wonderful Day Afishin'

A Wonderful Day Afishin'

 A wonderful day fishing, frying fish in the pan
 logs sweetly burning, smokey smells of delight
 Lake nearly perfect , a pond in God's opened hand
 feast soon to start a beautiful camping night!

 That monster fish that easily broke your rod tip
 set a memory to be recalled decades from now
 As recollections in old age our minds eagerly dip
 mental pictures the where , when , why and how!

 This night shall hold us in a very deep embrace
 join me in a toast to a future so fine and sweet
 Singing of happiness , joy and your smiling face
 memories, good times, wine and fish to eat!

 A wonderful day fishing, so very hard to beat
 Nature's offering, magnificent trout to eat!

 June -09- 1978
 Robert J. Lindley

 I wrote this decades ago. My fishing partner was a fine
 lady that I almost married! Sadly she passed away back in 
 May of 2005... She had married and had a grown daughter 
 in college. I hadn't had contact with her in well over 
 22 years. Still it was a sad day for me upon 
 learning of her death...

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Sonnet | |


I'll be what I must be, in spite of me
as life won't always give the things I choose
and so I have to make what has to be
into the things my life and I can use.

All roads don't lead to Rome, as it's been said,
but some to Paris, and a little fun,
so I will change the path where I would dread
to go to where I choose, when I am done.

I'll not be forced into a better scheme
if I can't see the end result my way
if it's not part of what my heart can dream
it never will come to the light of day.

   All things can change, if I have any voice
    in what they are, and I will make the choice.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa

Details | Sonnet | |


Preferred by those that know of nothing fair.
Destroyed by sand that blows through consciousness.
Existing in a vacuum of despair.
I left that world behind I must confess.

The wheels of hope extinguished memories.
With every mile clouds would drift away.
Until the devil's valley and disease.
Were lost in natures brilliant grand foyer.

Rejoice, the mountains, rivers of my home.
Forsaken once so young and long ago.
The years have swallowed up the urge to roam.
And age has brought the need to take it slow.
     Thoughts now have left me of that evil land.
     Here God and nature hold me in their hand.

Copyright © Robert Nehls

Details | Sonnet | |

The Journey

THE Journey

It’s not about the
It’s about the journey

It’s about who we become
Through the

It’s about who we are
After the 

The path is too long
The road too narrow

Why me, why my life and loves
Why my marriage, my family
I really don’t understand

It’s not about the 
It’s about the journey

Who we become through 
Life’s trials

While waiting for them
To pass
While waiting to be delivered
Who are we then?
It’s not about the 
It’s about the journey
It’s about us

Copyright © F. Darlene Mack

Details | Sonnet | |

Still Standing

Where were you when my world fell apart?
The Sun darkened and the Moon just fled.
All had been done and all had been said.
And ripped to shreds was my beating heart.

Even the Seas began to part.
And the Mountain tops spread.
I lay there completely dead.
Even the Stars I could not chart.

If only you knew,
If only you were there,
If only you had a clue!
If only life had been fair!

I’d turn the clocks back,
Still standing dead in my track!

Copyright © Ann Rich

Details | Sonnet | |

Finding Truth

Truth that is masked by the heart of a man
Can only explain the start of a lie
A lie so heavy, it spits on your plan
Left with emptiness, your soul on crows fly
Lost while still young, forgotten by the path
Living with shame, that no longer gives pain
Held at the throat by the questions wrath
How dark was made, that ignorant stain
Now you delve into knowledge left by the wise
In order to uncover a truth that was hidden
Burdened with sorrow whilst the nurser cries
Hindered by usurpers who have want of no lesson
Hold on to the railing, prepare a strong mind
For never you know what's out there to find

Copyright © Jordan Dickinson

Details | Sonnet | |


      Doomsday Rock
In these, our final days before the end,
come in a moment, faster than the eye,
'tis easy to believe, and comprehend
what lies beyond the end, is not to die;

We'll go as one, together to the last,
a world snuffed out, by something closing in,
that's been ten billion years, and coming fast
but we won't see it coming until then;

the speed it flies is something out of dreams,
much faster than a thought, it will be there,
and what we see won't be just what it seems
until the last, we'll see it everywhere.

In this, the end, out of necessity
we'll all believe, then we'll be history.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa

Details | Sonnet | |

More Than Just Words: Repost

                                        I'm tired of you becoming just words,
                                         On every page when I write at night.
                                           I saw you as a pretty face at first;
                                         I wouldn't mind if my ink pen dried.

                                       I say it because you're a human being;
                                           These situations are not my type.
                                       I want "I love you" to mean something,
                                             And you stay right by my side.

                                              Honestly, when I write poetry,
                              The feeling is unconfirmed, undecided, undefined.
                                               You are worth more to me
                                     Than words written down on every line.

                                          I'd prefer to have you in my arms;
                                        Paper and pen will not tear us apart.


                                                   ©2013 Honestly JT
                               For P.D.' s "Any Poem Goes #6" Poetry Contest

Copyright © Honestly J.T.

Details | Sonnet | |

The Other Side Of Me

You were the other side of me.
Like two rivers, joined up in a storm,
forging through our unknown landscapes
full of nature, but with purpose.
Learning, wandering and giving birth to new things.
Leveraging all that passed through our hands.

Until we became separated.
Hardship, mistakes divided our vast landscape
back into two, and we returned, to me and to you.
But we are still connected, I can see you
and you can see me, as part of everything that we do.
Forever and ever, our two rivers will run through…

Until we have travelled down to our next bend,
where we might flow back together again.

Copyright © James Fredholm

Details | Sonnet | |

The Life for Me

For far shires beyond the western red sun
  I'm leaving the Land of the Long White Cloud:
To journey across the blue horizon 
  Where cockatoos in bloodwoods sing so loud.
Trading in my black singlet and swanndri 
  For a swag and a croc tooth akubra, 
So hoo-roo Long Bay and hello Bondi 
  Where blokes drink Bundy rum...not Coruba!
Leaving a world where reality bites
  For the Dreamtime People's great southern land -
Outback bushies and cork hat urbanites 
  In the convict Land of the Long White Sand.
Now the Sunshine Coast is the life for me
In palisades and canals by the sea.

                 July 1997

Copyright © Keith Trestrail

Details | Sonnet | |

In the Clouds

Tainui - that great waka in the sky -
  The flight of the Koru carrying me 
Into the far orbits seven miles high 
  At altitude above the Tasman Sea!
And on its metallic longrider wing
  I gazed the moon and stars, the setting sun...
No man has seen a more glorious thing
  Nor behoved a greater journey begun!
For I was lost to a crisis of worth,
  To my fits of rage and ravage of woe,
To God in heaven and demons on Earth 
  Till the last flight from desolation row.
Thus here I am a longrider who flew
On the wings of Tainui back to you.

                    For Les

                  July 1997

Copyright © Keith Trestrail

Details | Sonnet | |

Journey To the Past

(A Blank Verse Sonnet)

I lie in bed at break of day and wait 
to hear a sound which rings across our land,
a sound unknown in days of long ago
when horses hauled all freight from place to place.

Why do I love to hear that lonesome wail?
My heart beats faster as the sound rings out
above the miles crisscrossed by rails of iron.
Is it because my mind goes back in time

to when our hungry hearts were young and you
came home from "over there," when I packed up
my goods and traveled sixteen hundred miles

by train to be with you?  My mind goes back
in time, parades long strings of scenes when we
were filled with love and free to live as one.

Copyright © Cona Adams

Details | Sonnet | |

Once Upon a Time in Hong Kong

 Away the land of the Flame Tree blossoms
   Orient blown athwart a yellow moon;
 To hearken the far sound of dragon drums
   And ride a Phantom into old Kowloon!
 To Salisbury Road "Peninsula" doors
   Where the trading ships its waters journey,
 Where long ago waged the Opium Wars
   And Britannia ruled the South China Sea.
 Now a new tale of skirmish is retold
   When two foes battled on a foreign field,
 But beware the armies in Green and Gold
   In the World Cup when Blackhearts choke and yield!
'Twas Sun Tzu in the art of war who taught
 Every battle is won before it's fought.


November 2008

Copyright © Keith Trestrail

Details | Sonnet | |


Make what you will
Of this story;
Note the appeal
On plot surely;
Mind and heart know,
Yield to the urge;
Trace a brave show,
Heed a blind surge.
Explore the road,
Claim the journey;
Hope bears the load,
Observe surely;
Expose the trade,
Sense new life laid.

Leon Enriquez
19 October 2014

Copyright © Leon Enriquez

Details | Sonnet | |

Wounded Bird of Flight

Young love bird wounded during your flight
Worried now where your companion landed
You sing a beautiful song, but still no sight
Certainly now he must have gotten stranded

The magical serenade continues to no avail
Some concern now for your own well being
This winter flight treacherous you feel frail
The singing stops, you are hardly breathing

One pilgrimage not completed you feel pain
Some guilt overtakes when you start to heal
The flying before your partner was it in vain
Or is there.a bird needing your singing still

Bird of flight your journey is still not done
Heal now, continue to fly for the other one

Penned by Wayland Bunch 2/12/2013

Copyright © wayland bunch

Details | Sonnet | |

Restless Natives

Creative Native, quite contemplative-
he draws on walls in ancient caves.
So Hieroglyphic speculative:
Cuneiform curses mark mummy graves.

On land the sand, the grains of Man-
exoplated, protective shells.
A last ballast, we're sinking fast;
step lively men, and hoist the sails!

The Tribe has grown and it has thrived-
(their drumbeats echo as if alive!)
We've lost our rudder, I wince and shudder,
and I have lost all will and drive...

No longer fond of the Amazon-
Jungle be damned; I wish 'twere gone!

Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet

Details | Sonnet | |

Ahhh, Those Sexy Southern Gals

Ahhh, Those Sexy Southern Gals

A write for such a very fine night
echoes drifted in as day lost light
Whispers of former days with sweet gals
partying with my old longtime pals!

Thoughts of future days so far away
living each minute no thought to pay
Life, love and fortune always to be had
we that raced about quite crazy and bad!

Thrills of love lost in it's sad stings
pretty gals angling for a wedding ring
Memories of so many pretty eyes and faces
sexy girls, sexy legs and pretty laces!

Wild were the times of we Southern boys
gone are the days of guns, cars and those sweet ,fast toys....

Robert J. Lindley  07-15-2014

A wild youth remembered by a now very settled old man... 
note: "toys"  has a double meaning..

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Sonnet | |

A Mariner's Tale

'Twas on caravel five centuries ago,
   On third voyage a Queen's fleet sailed south-west:
 And the red horizon shone a great glow
   Upon Columbus in flat ocean quest.
 Into island passage beyond gulf trail,
   Through Boca del Dragon on landing wave
 Led the Genoan's flagship under sail -
   Safe travelled and spared a jagged reef's grave!
"Ahoy, far Indies!", land of sun and realm:
  "Isla de la Trinidad" would claim he -
 That virgin New World, that far crossing helm,
   And by Spanish warrant, its territory.
 In a mariner's heart there's one true love:
 Mainsail on the wind - Hesperus above.


          Trinidad and Tobago.

             December 1995

Copyright © Keith Trestrail

Details | Sonnet | |

I Wrote Just For You

I Wrote Just For You

I wrote a song for you my precious life
four years courtship and now my wife
Your love and spirit now sweetly sings
removing the former pains and deepened stings

I wrote a poem for you my sweetest love
ten years together my little coo'ing dove
Your gentleness and ardor still inspires
the flames to leap in renewed heart's fires

I wrote a letter to be delivered some day
after life ceases , my spirit can not stay
Your treasure you so joyously gave to me
I will be waiting under Heaven's great tree

Heaven's fold holds a place for your spirit
sings a very special song for you, can you hear it

Robert J. Lindley , 07-10-2014

Dedicated to my wife, my life and all she inspires 
and does for me every second of every day..

Copyright © Robert Lindley