Lucidity
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First of a series of sonnets on the same subject, to demonstrate Blank Verse, English, Cornish, and Weavers sonnet forms.
(A Blank Verse Sonnet)
Why do I wrestle with the weight of sound,
my eardrums bouncing words like tennis balls?
They resonate within my heart to draw
a drop of blood or touch of slivered pain.
I yearn for substance in selected scripts
designed to frame and fix within my brow;
I pull forth words to taste at every turn
and dare to string together noun and verb,
yet somehow tangled meanings still occur.
Until the heavens’ gates are flung apart
and all the stars no longer mirror shine,
may lyrics wrap themselves in tempered brass.
Artistic wings must wake a sleeping screen
and burn the yarn in every reader’s nous.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
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