Pure snowflakes fall upon a dust-gray street:
Love's beauty, scattered by a Baby's fingers.
The softened, hov'ring winter darkness lingers:
A gentle life, so sweet to me, so sweet!
Clear, poignant carols echo on the air,
Sung by the pale-lipped children of December.
With breathless joy, always will I remember
Their angel-sounds, so fair to hear, so fair.
The gifts pile high under the Christmas tree.
The gaiety grows greater every day.
Into my dreams, a starved child finds his way:
"A crust of bread for me, a crust for me."
The thought of him remains all season through -
So far away, so little I can do.
for Bjorn's prompt at dVerse: to post a sonnet, new or old. This one is very old. I wrote it in 1963 when I was fifteen. It seems the inequities of the world bothered me back then as much as they do now. I will also try to write a new sonnet.
The contrast between the joy of Christmas and those who have nothing is so tragic... the ultimate story I always think of is the little match girl by H-C Anderssen which always make me cry...
ReplyDeletehttp://www.andersen.sdu.dk/vaerk/hersholt/TheLittleMatchGirl_e.html
I liked the Yin Yang nature of this piece Sherry. A wonderful sonnet at the heart of the spirit of the season... :-)
ReplyDeleteNice line: "Love's beauty, scattered by a Baby's fingers."
ReplyDeleteI am glad you keep your writing, Sherry ~
ReplyDeleteI still have a few poems from way back then, Sherry, and I have to say that this sonnet is so well-crafted for a fifteen year old – a sign of what was to come. Your teenage self captured the contrast of those that have and those that have not, and filled it with benevolence.
ReplyDeleteA beautiful poem from long ago...not much has changed...but in the big scheme of things, it's really not so long ago?
ReplyDeleteWorld hunger is still an ever-growing problem. It begs the question, Who will feed the children?
ReplyDeleteI have to say, I believe you were born with an older soul as you sees beyond your years. I mean that as a good thing, my friend.
see*
DeleteYour talent was born early, Sherry. I can feel your passion and sadness in presenting the message...yet it is so beautiful at the same time. The repetition is also very effective and the way you weave in and out with contrast...wow.
ReplyDeleteIts so wonderful that you've kept your early stuff around -- it's very well done for so young a try -- you had it early, for sure -- and how it echoes today in Yemen and Somalia and in American detention centers. I read it as a new poem. Amazing.
ReplyDeletePerfect sonnet, Sherry. I cannot imagine you being so intuitive to situations such as this at an early age. Thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteHow well you wrote at only 15! This one tugs at the heart.
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