[This sonnet was written for the Cafe Writing site's October Project.]
The Nightmare
When late October air grows chill
I dream of spirits, old and cold.
The weeds are wet upon the hill
as ghosts begin their flight so bold.
I listen even with my eyes
to pinpoint each benighted wisp,
for I've no mind to hear their cries
that float upon the wind so crisp.
The road to home is far this night
I fear I may not make it back.
With none to aid me in my plight
I brace myself against the black
and hope that as the shadows play
they let me reach All Hallows Day.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
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11 comments:
Great communication of a feeling nd setting!
Thank you so much for participating. You're all linked, and I really enjoyed reading this... (I will come back after I've written my OWN Sunday Scribble, to read yours.)
-- MissMeliss
Hi, Sophie! Thanks.
Melissa - I'm glad you like it. Thanks for letting me know about Cafe Writing. I'll likely try at least one of the other prompts.
"The road to home is far this night
I fear I may not make it back."
Some nights it does feel that way! I liked the flow!
I chose option Five too!
Thanks, Gautami. Sonnets are getting easier, but they are hard work for me. And option five was looking a bit lonely so far. I'm looking forward to reading yours.
Oh, I like this...it truly captures the essence of the season.
Very well done!
Hi, Becca, and thanks. I'm glad you stopped by.
Thanks for the very kind thoughts over at my place. I am very appreciative.
anytime, Sophie
Reads like a spell (it crept a bit under the skin *grin*); I somehow imagine a sudden onset of fog into my room as I read it (something appearing, disappearing perhaps). Loved it. Enjoyed the rhythm -- the 'beat' of the piece -- too.
Cheers.
Thanks, Soulless.
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