Welcome back. This week’s post is a non random (as was last week’s) pick. I’m hoping that everyone understood the Dave Loggins reference last week, because it’s pertinent this week, too.
This week’s pick is a standard Petrarchan Sonnet, ABBACDDC EFGEFG.
Steal Away #232 Calliope, my treasured muse speak soft. Your whispered strains that penetrate my heart And bleed from pen before the dawn can start, Arise from love and lift my soul aloft. Could warm embrace from mortal arms compare To that, which lovingly I get from thee Each moment that our hearts are joined and free From that discordant noise that fills the air. Could we but find a place to steal away To write this greatest tale of love unknown In ages past, or even those unseen In future’s bosom. Words that would convey All that I am now that our love has grown. For you, fair muse, now keep my soul serene. Frank Garnick © Copyright The Archer's March 21 February 2023
Poetry doesn’t seem to be much of a thing these days. Traditional poetry even less. That’s OK. I write because I must. I’ve less a drive to share I suppose. I keep coming up with ideas for short stories that I file away and I’m continually touching up one that I’ve “finished.”
This past year was a desert as far as my writing went. Nevertheless, the attachment I have with my muse is still very dear to me. I suppose that maybe I hope that posting this very personal sonnet will bring us together again. I dearly wish to write again.
Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day.
And if you’ve a mind, buy me a coffee