As death draws near, we'll have reason to reflect.
At God's judgment, will we stand tall, free of defect?
If we could, would it be just the aftereffect
of a life lived for self, with pride’s introspect?
What did God ordain with the word, resurrect?
change, redirection from the dead, in effect.
There comes to the soul, a day when we're subject -
to guilt as a sinner, immoral, suspect.
We can put the blame on evil’s misdirect
but our faults we must own in circumspect
bond with the God-head, we no longer reject.
We rise to glorious grace as God’s chosen elect.
Our deaf and dumb pilot,
Whose path-finding guts we haven’t got,
Took us to the sinister spot,
Where would be found a fearsome pot
And the littlest cot,
With baby spirits like a big dot,
Still seeming through and through a zygote,
Some on the cot happily choosing to squat,
A handful with their eyes chasing a far-off yacht
And the rest riotously dead, ready to rot!
And all these did my belly churn
And our hearts burn
And a Roger resurrect his trust in incense and urn
I, swearing never again to a mystery turn.
within the midst of darkened summer nights
a gossamer wind whispers through the trees
a melancholy melody benights
your soft whispers attuned within its breeze
i feel your gentle touch atop bare skin
as i dance with shadows in moon's dim light
pirouetting around what could have been
beneath the slow dance of yesteryear's plight
i close my eyes beneath your lips' caress
where memories hold tight your tender kiss
to live in the moments time can't repress
i slip back through the years and reminisce
i lose myself within memories calls
until summer's thunderous storm befalls
July 8, 2019
Best sonnet 2019 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
find an altar, with pieces of my heart
your promises dripped in blood
let's resurrect this love
resurrect this love...
the night screams and I can't sleep
the footstep of memories haunt my dreams
just like in horror movies you reach for me
ice cold hands and I can't breathe
dark thoughts wonder around in my head
feasting off my hate like the living dead
just like in the macabre I'm with you in death
ice cold hands and steal your breathe
until the day I find the love to slain
this monster created in my name
this pain will sip and drain
and like a ghost I'll fade away
find an altar, with pieces of my heart
your promises dripped in blood
let's resurrect this love
I try to sleep more.
It's easier that way,
as time slips away.
Allowing me to grow old,
yet remain eternally youthful.
A sort of living death.
As I inch my way towards the awful
imprisonment called conformity.
As I attempt to resurrect that
which society tries to eliminate
each day of my life.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.