In spite of everything, an odd delight
upsurges in the body, like a tide
that claims a rocky shore, or like a wide
and widening pool of morning light—
except it’s messier. It spills, despite
our thin attempts to hold its force inside.
It sloshes, splatters, overflows. It slides
and slips, it floods, upends, engulfs, unrights.
Oh fierce irrational joy! It doesn’t care
about the setting. Doesn’t care who sees.
It soaks us with its ecstasy, its strange
unruly grace. And then it’s gone. No prayer
or pretty please will make it stay. And we
are changed: yes, still ourselves, but rearranged.
“..still ourselves, but rearranged.” YES! POW! Outta the park.
In spite of everything, irrational joy. *sigh* May it continue.
Thanks, friend. I was particularly pleased with this little sonnet it wrestled me down, opened me up
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Wednesday, February 18, 2015 at 11:17 AM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Have You Felt It, Too?”
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Like a rock.
That’s a great little internal rhyme at the end with the change/rearranged, shuts the poem down with such grace. A bonus rhyme in such a graceful sonnet.
But the line
” or like a wide
and widening pool of morning light—…” How lovely that phrase, the way the words widen with the image and the sound fills the whole line.
thank you friend it was fun to write a sonnet again. it¹s been a long time!