Tomorrow's dawn will start the longest day
When summer takes the torch and starts to run
He'll summon all the children of the sun
His followers that love his warming way
They'll laugh and celebrate in outdoor play
It is the greatest time for water fun
Each claiming to be summer's fav'rite son
Absorbing every ultraviolet ray
And when the sun lies down to take his rest
Their celebrations go in to the night
Cavorting with the moon, who's unimpressed
He knows they only like him 'cause he's bright
They'll fall asleep their backs toward the west
As children of the sun await first light
by Daniel Turner
Miltonic sonnet #2
How can it be that few of us can see
the hands of greed and pride have dealt their blow
and caused a horrid lack of faith to grow
Will God still listen to my earnest plea
as I request His help on bended knee?
I’m lost, I did not see, I did not know
that we had come to cause a world of woe
alas, attributed to those like me
My fleeting youth is spent, but hope hangs on
that better generations yet to come
will resurrect the truth, the faith, the light
and recreate the path that seems foregone
To greed, despair and pride they won’t succumb;
I want to trust one day they will unite
*Written May 10, 2014 - Miltonic Sonnet
Planners hath much to quarrel and to quill,
Yet, not know their own eye or trailed hand,
Doth quickly consume an unfathomed land.
Is it right to put ax to tree or ground to till?
Nay ev'n hearing a next door neighbor's will?
Seeing not his son's labor thru a torrent land,
Fills sufficient stores, and hath more to demand. (Reworked and shortened 5/14/2014)
Having, gets new glory and tells him nay to feel:
Ev'n snow covered tops doth ask why choose
Logs without recall of the past weighted track;
Felled cut timber, nay know where they're going
To light; Now, acorns hath much more to loose
And doth value truest todays' sorrowed lack,
Gives vast to man, more than morsel or bit coin.
Miltonic Sonnet Contest
Via the contest sponsor's request,
Has a moral and/or social issue subject matter
5/9/2014
God knows each heart that walks the streets, and then,
each sense of guilt caught up in false pretense.
How not to spend a tear at their expense
How do we not reflect what might have been
if circumstance had never been a friend?
If fate or chance might change the future, hence?
Their shoulders hunched, against cruel wind, intense.
Poor scavengers, who some call useless men
will migrate streets, in hopes for scraps of food.
A crumb, a nickel, dime, a place to find
A shelter dry, when frost of night is nigh.
And now I travel home, perhaps to brood
on cruelty of life that bodes unkind
to some. I cannot eat,...tonight I cry.
~
5/5/14
Miltonic Sonnet: For Contest
Resubmitted for Brian Strand's Contest: Mid August Premiere 8/11/18
Showcase of my favourite painted collection, a
Piled up for years, eventually being inaugurated, b
Without fail, what if colours were amalgamated ? b
No one could ever unveil my apprehension, a
Heart pouncing, breaths endured expansion, a
More and more to the colours as I concentrated, b
My senses shivered and swiftly hibernated, b
My passion, my hobby could not be my profession ! a
Neutral to doctor's innocuous advice on colour, c
Who proved out the reception on retina as deficient, d
Creator himself had prejudiced me in chromacy, e
Dreams of painting vibrant having lost all valour, c
As literary gained power, hues became munificent, d
Enriched in colors, now could be a pen's supremacy ! e
Written on 5/5/14
Sponsor- Craig Cornish
Contest- Miltonic sonnet
How different was the world of long ago
when writing was a special skill to hone,
and masters of this art were so well known
with names like Wordsworth, Shelley, Frost or Poe.
The realm of poetry began to grow
exceedingly as newer forms were sown
though now there are so few of world renown
while poetry itself sees endless flow!
The techno world allows us to be seen
on countless websites and we all can claim
to be a poet, but the irony
is that there barely is a thing to glean
from this, for often just to show one's name,
the poet pays the publisher a fee!
(A Miltonic Sonnet - I hope!) Written 4/30/14
There is a stillness after the raging
storm, a quiet only disturbed by birds'
songs; so many joyful sounds now heard
the coos, caws, and chirping none lagging
Solid clouds still amassed, no zigzagging
from lightning flash, just gentle Hummingbirds'
songs heard and windchimes' music undergird
Is the Master a different scene staging ?
Yes, His plans will soon be in motion set.
This planet is facing changes unseen
before; the angels very soon will no
more hold the wind's destructive force_ and yet
Will He soon to earth come His own to glean?
His own He'll claim I know; then winds let go
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Contest: Miltonic Sonnet
Written: May 01, 2014
Why does hatred bloom where two lovers stand
vowing only to cherish each other forever?
When it is love and hope that brought them together,
why do hoards of people want their union banned?
Just because it is a love they cannot understand?
Does it somehow make their lives a little bit better
keeping different drummers from marrying ever?
And here I thought we lived in a free land.
Why must we put restrictions on how people love?
Why does homosexuality scare people so?
Consenting adults should be allowed their own choice.
I’ll leave moral judgment to the heavens above,
but this is one thing that I certainly now know -
a union of any two lovers is a cause to rejoice.
Written and posted on 4/29/2014 for Craig Conrish's "Miltonic Sonnet" contest.
Should we that have no lack give of our store
Of food to those who live in daily need
When they cannot deny the pressing greed
Of cravings and addictions crying, "More
For me, and you'll forget that you are poor,
And how your heart has never ceased to bleed
From beatings and abuse for ev'ry deed
Opposed, or else that made a conscience sore
By doing right"? This then ought we to say
To those who claim providing clothes will aid
Their errant ways: " 'O Lord, when saw we thee
In hunger or in thirst along the way,
Or naked, or in prison,' and He said,
'The least of these ye served as unto Me.' "
{Miltonic Sonnet}
(Written April 28th, 2014)
{Loosely quoted from Matthew 25}
At some point, my legs begin to converse
of time spent on the trail, rest now needed,
For like a horse's labors exceeded,
the strength mere food and water can't traverse
Beyond exhaustion, repose will reverse
Thus respite, backpack set down and relieved
of duties, containing my home achieved,
until such time as rested legs endorse
my return to trails, and onward I go;
Traveling far Appalachia’s way,
witness to wonders and all living things,
in far towns and altitude, well below,
where nature’s flora and colors bouquet;
To motivate legs that have become wings.
Written: April 25, 2014
for Craig Cornish's Miltonic Sonnet Contest
In frozen space there spins a marveled sphere
On balanced perch with fettered care, aglow
An artful system shields a fragile show
And skillfully adjusts to nature’s veer
Both land and sea work seamlessly to steer
A nuanced waltz that sways with ebb and flow
Ensuring life sustained is free to grow
The tenants with the largest minds, I fear
Are loath to gait their stride among the herd
Entitled arrogance on proud display
As man expands and subjugates with flair
From greenhouse gas to ocean stress incurred
The human race insuring its decay
Tomorrow’s hopes and dreams, this folly snares
19 Apr 2014
Miltonic Sonnet
abbaabbacdecde
Lost souls that always roam the lonely roads,
Ever searching for that spring they shan’t find
In melancholy souls of their same kind,
Whose burdens break their backs with heavy loads,
Intertwined with heartbreak which bodes
Of darkest baggage from a life defined,
Containing sorrows leaving them maligned.
Though living within these confines one loathes,
Irrespective of profound loss of pride,
They deign to keep their loneliness repressed.
Old shadows follow, adding to their woes.
Seems almost an eon since last they cried,
Echoing in deaf ears how they’ve transgressed;
Yet hope glimmers in those sad eyes, Lord knows.
April, 18, 2014
The shadows creep and faintly in the sky,
stars begin to come to us with gentle light.
And once more our fancy doth take flight
with man's eternal question " oh God, why?
What place have we when then we die,
railing against the unknown we still fight.
Often that query comes unbidden in the night
as the time of our mortality marches nigh.
Now into the depths of sky man sails
on wings of faith, answers cloaked in mystery.
We beat our breast in anguish, try to understand
the plan that lurks there behind the starry veil.
And so it has been given through all history
that perhaps answers are written only in shifting sand...
4/18/14
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