My Mime

So, one of my assignments in poetry class is to write 6 sonnets.  I finally made some time for them today and after a lovely walk and the beginnings of two sonnets, I managed to write the following two:

 

 

 

One Night
I sat one night beneath a silver poem.
The vapour from its breath did clean my eyes.
I saw the pattern of its cadence roam
And revelled in the vastness of the skies.
In moments it did whisper soft my name.
One time it walked right up and shook my hand.
I bowed.  It grinned and dipped and did the same.
There must be nothing quite so small yet grand.
But there were times when danger trapped my mind.
I feared our touch would make my reason bleed.
I searched my dreams in fear of what I'd find
And learned the tiny hopes had gone to seed.
That night we ate the truth with flavour lie
And sat in peace of hope, the poem and I.

My Mime
I go about my business most of the time.
I treat the crimes of yesterday
Without a word, as if I were a mime,
And think only of what I next should say.
I think if some of this, my daily path
Should change.  I would mime on the missing part,
Ignore the strange, and not re-count the math.
I wonder if I washed away the paint,
Removed the gloves and took my life for real,
Would others mark me as some kind of saint?
Would it be good at last to truly feel?
But now I think I'll go on with this act
And stay within the safe, at home with fact.

The End

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