Tag: sonnet

The Castle Walls

On the hill, we built the fortification
To discourage the invading forces
From thinking they can take this great nation.
They may bring their catapults and horses
To show off their might at our castle walls,
But we are ready for their advances.
They expect our sovereignty to fall
Because of their military dance,
But we will not be intimidated
By their shiny medals and puffy hats.
We will not be so easily bated
For they are nothing more than spoiled brats.
There is a reason we built it so high,
Just so out heritage will never die.

An Autumn Stroll

Uneven cobblestones make up the lane
As I try to find some better footing,
But the were leaves won’t allow any gain.
The path is gathering them by looting
The fall tress of their greatest finery.
They can no longer offer protection
Against the strong wind that blows so chilly
From its mountainous fortification.
I dig my hands deeper in my pockets
As I peek out from underneath my hood.
I start to remember things life forgets
Like how moments like this used to be good.
Nostalgia returns in the autumn
As each step sings with the crunches that come.

Autumn Days

The fog puts its dirty paws on the hills,
So it can creep to the valley below.
The vibe of summertime is what it kills
As it weaves through the forest really slow.
It brings with it, its chilly friend, the mist,
To cover the ground with a film of dew,
Taking the season in its mighty fist
To a routine that we forgot we knew.
It just means an extra layer today
Before I venture outside of my door.
I know that this monster is here to stay
Until it returns to the land of yore.
I guess I should enjoy these autumn days
When the clouds descend upon us to graze.

Flock Mentality

It takes the coaxing of one bird in flight
To convince all the others to follow.
They could turn left, but they will all go right
Because their conviction is so hollow
That they can only do what they are told.
So they will swoop around an empty field,
A congregation worthy to behold,
And never allowing themselves to yield.
They will circle around the dying crops,
Thinking that what they see is still alive.
Life’s been taken away to distant shops
Which does not help to explain the flock’s drive.
Around and around they will always go,
No substance to their revolving air show.

Something New

Sometimes we do what we do not want to,
Thinking we just have to endure the day,
Hopefully knowing we can make it through,
And return back to our regular play.
But something strange happens along the way
That the moment we thought would be painful
Did not turn the day overcast and gray,
And it became an event kind of cool.
I should abandon preconceived notions
Because it’s more than often they are wrong;
Instead, I should enjoy the emotions
That come when I decide to go along.
I should stop looking for the worst in life,
And I will leave behind all of the strife.

Watching from Our Place

The clouds rush their way across the night sky,
Trying to obscure the light of the moon,
But the light wisps are too eager to fly
To retain the celestial god’s boon.
He watches over the town on the hill
With its collection of twinkling lights,
Recognizing that people live there still
Who enjoy the sky’s smiling man’s delights.
I sit across the valley on my ridge
In a chair on the deck of my cabin
With the evening as our only bridge
Connecting the empty space in-between.
Does the eternal round face even care
That we know that he is up in the air?

Changing of the Season

It feels as if summer has just begun,
And I am already hearing whispers
Of shorter days and a cold fading sun
When the air nibbles a little crisper.
I do not wish to stay outside as long,
At least not without a fluffy sweater,
For the north wind blows a little too strong,
And next to a wood stove would feel better.
There’s something about the change in the air
That makes me feel a wee bit nostalgic
For a time when I did not have a care,
And joy was based upon youthful logic.
I do not know which days I long for more
Because both are a shutting of a door.

The Return Home

I need to leave the world I know behind
And though it is only for a short time,
Upon my return, I will start to find
That I do not come back to the same clime.
Though it may appear vey much the same,
I will discover when I dig deeper
That a friend will have a new face and name,
And the happening place, now’s a sleeper.
What became of this place while I was gone?
Who is responsible for all the change?
Will I always long for the days of yon
When the place I came from was not so strange?
My fate at my home is to be alone
When I am the one who has never grown.

The Death of the Movie Theater

Have we lost all originality?
Can we no longer tell a new story?
You create what you think we want to see,
A re-skinning of an old property.
When that does not draw in the wanted crowd,
You will just go with the trusted sequel,
A watered down original, but proud,
That will get all the fan boys to squeal.
It is our money that you want to grab,
And you do not care about the true art.
Instead of taking a creative stab,
You keep churning out the crap without heart.
Do not claim it’s the death of the theater
When you put out another repeater.

The Wind-up Clock

This is the last time we will wind the clock,
And we can watch it tick down ’til it stops.
The face reports the final time in lock
Being one of remembrance’s props.
Until that moment, we’ll ignore the tick
That reminds us of the limited time.
Instead, we will play on our ears, a trick
Of covering sound with a happy chime.
No matter how much noise that we can make,
The reminder will hover in our mind
Because time holds all the power to take,
Leaving only out memories behind.
Let’s make the most out of each passing tock
By not paying attention to that clock.