Cry

posted this today...then i thought maybe i should have added my sonnet:

Sonnet III

When she does cry, it is a hurricane -
Woolly and wild, windswept tears shake the earth -
Buildings crumble, lifetimes cease at her pain;
As she sculpts a landscape fit for rebirth.
While an anguished roar torn from some far place
Ranges through the present, running amok,
Trees are uprooted, saplings are replaced
With fertile seeds in a maternal muck.
When she is spent, she lays for centuries,
Loving her solitude, drying her tears;
Raising children to be stronger than trees,
Willing her love to be longer than years.
Sadness allowed, a tear every day,
So the raging pain finds no place to stay.


Of course i never have been pleased with the last two lines.
Sometimes while i'm driving it'll come into my mind like a
chore i forgot, and once or twice i think i have written a
better two final lines for this sonnet...but never when
paper or keyboard was anywhere around.

if any poets happen along and read this and have suggestions,
i'd love to hear them. thanks
- posted by barbara @ 4/27/2002 08:17:00 AM