Pentecost

sparkThe room is still; the hearth is cold and dark.

A rancid smell of ashes fills the air.

The candles stand neglected.  Windows stare

Like blinded eyes unlit by any spark.

How dead this place – no life has left its mark

Upon the icy floor, the table bare;

No breeze, no breath, no sound, no movement there.

No grave could be as bleak, no tomb as stark.

 

A scratch, a flare – its spark dispels the gloom.

From candles, dancing leaves of light aspire.

Their brightness fills the corners of the room;

Dead ashes glow, and warmth breathes from the fire.

My lifeless hearth has blossomed into flame,

And in the room a voice calls out my name.

8 thoughts on “Pentecost

  1. ‘sonnet’ form is a classic . . .

    this is beautiful, Damaris . . . thank you for sharing it with us

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  2. 40 years? Well then, you’re not such a new New Formalist.

    New Formalism is a movement among some poets in the last 10 to 20 years that has reintroduced poetic devices like meter and rhyme to contemporary poetry.

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  3. Unintentionally. I don’t know what a New Formalist is, but I’ve been writing sonnets for 40 years.

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