Who Was That Girl Beyond The Window Pane? - A Sonnet

Apparently waking for me is a good time for the first lines of sonnets. This is yet another production of early morning inspiration. I though it would be fun to write a silly sonnet after the more serious ones that have been coming from my figurative pen. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had writing it.

Who Was That Girl Beyond The Window Pane

Who was that girl beyond the window pane?

The one with hair just like a chocolate fount

And eyes like emeralds dappled by the rain,

That sparkle like too many stars to count.

My heart is pounding like ten thousand drums

Or trying to escape me from within.

How can this girl be like a bard who strums

My heart as if it were a lyre thin?

Did she see me? Does she know I exist?

Will she come back to catch a glimpse of me?

Why is it so that someone can be missed

With just one look, the see-er no longer free?

Oh look! She dropped an item from her bag.

Our meeting's fate! No time to lollygag.

He Still Appears Like Echoes In My Mind - A Sonnet

Here is that sonnet I mentioned in my last post. I woke up one morning having the first line of a sonnet perfectly in my head and, because I didn't immediately write it down, all I could remember by the evening was "like echoes in my mind." It comes from the idea of when someone keeps coming to mind when you've tried to put them behind you. Enjoy!

He Still Appears Like Echoes in My Mind

He still appears like echoes in my mind,

Awake, asleep, at times inopportune.

A bond unbreaking, fates perhaps entwined,

From likened cloth, perchance, were we both hewn?

Has he become a spectre, closely tied

To earth, to me through ling'ring memory?

Refusing to release what was denied,

Have I thus cursed ourselves with devilry?

Farewell, my love. Forever now, adieu.

I shall release thee as thou dost deserve

For each man's soul shouldst not be bound anew

When once it has been freed from sin to serve.

May God forgive me for my selfish wish

To keep thee near instead of suffer anguish.

Hush Now, My Darling

So ... my challenge effort failed in most epic proportions. However, I have still attempted writing and thus here are the fruits of my labours. I also have a sonnet in the works that I will share hopefully in the near future. This is my attempt at a lullaby.

Hush Now, My Darling

Hush now, my darling, and sleep through the night.

Lay down thy head with the sun's fading light.

Let thy eyes close as the moon starts to rise

And stars twinkle brightly across dark'ning skies.

Dream now, my darling; be bothered by naught.

Worry and fear shall be things long forgot.

Pictures of love and of joy brimming full

Shall come to thee quickly in covers of wool.

Sleep now, my darling, as songs fill thy head,

Melodies soft as thou liest in bed.

God watches o'er thee; his love and joy teems.

You know so does mine. Now good night and sweet dreams.

Writing Challenge - Day 6

He looked down at his hands; they were shaking. He tried to get them to stop but they refused to obey. As he sat there, television rolling in front of him, he could feel his heart mimicking his hands. His breaths grew short and quick, as if his lungs couldn't bear to be full for very long.

"It can't be," he thought. "It can't be."

His hands still shaking, he took the phone in both hands for fear he'd let it drop. Slowly, he typed the numbers and put the phone to his ear. The dial tone rang once.

"Oh good, it's working."

Second dial tone.

Third dial tone.

"Maybe his phone's on vibrate and that's why he's not picking up. That's got to be it."

Fourth dial tone.

"Come on, Kurt. Come on."

Fifth dial tone.

"Kurt!"

"Hello?" answered a strange male voice.

His hands had steadied and pulse slowed when the phone had been answered but renewed their activity at the non-Kurt voice.

"Who are you? Where's Kurt?" he demanded with more vehemence than perhaps the recipient deserved.

"Calm down, sir," said the strange voice. "Who am I speaking to?"

"Cameron, Cameron Sturgeon."

"What is your relation to ... Kurt?"

"I'm his brother. Now put him on."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sturgeon, but that won't be possible."

"No ... no ... it has to be possible. You have his phone so he has to be there. Give him the phone!"

"Mr. Sturgeon, please. I'm sorry to have to tell you this over the phone but ... your brother Kurt is dead."

P.S. So the weekend threw me off my regular routine (well, sort of routine) but hopefully I'll be able to keep up my streak after this.

Writing Challenge - Day 5

Life

Insurmountable, Impossible

Running, Falling, Failing

Repentance, Salvation, Justification, Sanctification

Running, Falling, Growing

Challenging, Full

Life

Writing Challenge - Day 4

Inspired by the legend of Hemingway (or some other famous writer) who wrote a story in six words: "For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn."

Help needed. New coffin. Child sized.

Help wanted. Friendly face. Just once.

Lost mind. Can't find. Need help.

P.S. Yes, this one is legitimately late but I am doing my best.

Writing Challenge - Day 3

Roses are red;

Violets are blue;

I know this is rubbish

But it's the best I could do.

Don't know if you'll read this

Or if you will care

That I've poured out my heart

On the test of dare.

They saw me  look at you

And pulled me aside.

They said that they'd help me

If I gave up my pride.

Of course I refused

Thus paid for it dearly

By writing this poem

That has not come out clearly.

I'm not good with words

But the feelings are true.

If you couldn't guess,

I really love you.

If you think I'm creepy,

Just throw this away.

But if you want to meet me,

I'll be waiting all day.