(sonnet # CCCXCVII)
This used to be my fav'rite time of year,
Infusing life with brilliant cheer by lights
More than ought else, 'cept songs, whose heights
Of ecstasy thereby imbued this sphere
And all it touched with its dear spirit's tier
Of excellence naught else could match; where sights
And sounds contrived to lend those lambent sleights
To ev'ry part of life while it was here.
I sought to be consumed by it, suffuse
Its fire throughout my world and being as long
As possible. Until I found its ruse
Quite devilish. Its god and gospel wrong.
Though loathe to lose its sweets, I could not choose
But to abhor and hate its joyous throng.
- Author: Chic George (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: December 25th, 2011 23:34
- Comment from author about the poem: Come, you are curious aren't you? I thought to pen an explanation (in a sonnet of course!) for why I do not wish anyone a "Merry...!" though I formerly did. Thinking I finally found words to begin, I still have fallen short. Yet mayhap this will lend a hint?
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 18