Description: A sonnet written when I first learned a dear friend had not long to live. It is the first of a trilogy, --I wrote the second , but not the third. It has been 18 months since he went on to better place,--and I hacked this to pieces, revising almost every syllable. I know the metaphor is not novel, but it's how I felt that long winter.
In Winter’s Thrall -------------------------------------------
December’s chill hangs thick above Bull Lake
as moon-white spectres swirl through windswept snow.
My heart enthralled by languor, dreams awake–
like torpid fish suspended deep below.
The loons have flown to seasides far away,
yet still I hear their haunting mournful call;
a song of love now lost to summer days
that echoes through the blue wind’s plaintive squall.
For Time is like the sifting snow that drifts
enshrouding urgencies of yesterday;
austere and still, the landscape ever shifts
between divine release and mortal sway.
The bonds of winter silent sorrows bring
to those for whom there is no certain Spring.
I cannot tell you just how this made me feel. I just went yesterday for a breast biopsy and do not have the results yet. Then I come to you and you express exactly how it is. I feel uncertain and afraid. Thank you for expressing this for me. Love, Lynn
Hello Silverdog, I've been away from this site for a while and am so glad to see you still post here. This is a haunting/beautiful piece.. the call of the loon, lingering, ....beautiful. Most of us (myself included) believe spring follows winter. Only with the appearance of reality, do we stop to re-examine those beliefs. Thank you for posting.
"The bonds of winter silent sorrows bring/to those for whom there is no certain Spring." Wow. The saddest part is never knowing that you'll have another Spring because of dying a tragic accident.... A lot of tragic accidents have happened in the past year and a half around here and this piece makes me sad, yet hopeful...because it makes me realize, though I do sort of already realize it, that we are not promised another Spring, Summer, Fall, or tomorrow. Life happens...and it is so sad....it's depressing but we must live for the present and love with all of our hearts. Wow, sorry that was a big rant about nothing to do with this poem...but I guess this piece really made me feel and think. So thank you for that. Wonderful piece. My favorite line "yet still I hear their haunting mournful call" because no matter what the memories of those passed on will always be with me. Take care, --blt
"Dear Sally, when I read this piece I could feel your grief, yet at the same time see the beauty of the landscape you managed to paint in my mind. I know you have re-wrote it several times in search of perfection and personnaly I believe you have attained it. I think your finish was very strong also "The bonds of winter silent sorrows bring to those for whom there is no certain spring"--A realy nice piece of work," ----------Mugs---------.
Nope, just read this again. I do have a couple of nitpicks for you to think over lol:
"My heart enthralled by languor ,dreams awake–" --a tiny thing, but a misplaced comma. Still, ya know lol.
"enshrouding urgencies of yesterday;" --I like Nan's suggestion. Two three-syllable words gives this a rhythm that's slightly off to me.
"to those for whom there is no certain Spring." --"to those for whom there is" seems awkward. I know sonnets are generally awkward when it comes to inverted syntax, but I feel like you could work on this to flesh out the rhythm even better.
There, some nitpicks! Haha. But all said, up to you of course. Peace, Jase
P.S. Are you Canadian-English? Your spelling isn't American. Just wondering.
this is so beautiful and melancholy, Sally. writing a sonnet is not so easy, but you have given us a peek into your grief at losing someone close.. the winter chill i can feel.
For Time is like the sifting snow that drifts enshrouding urgencies of yesterday; austere and still, the landscape ever shifts between divine release and mortal sway.
those are my favorite lines.. i wouldn't change a thing, Silverkitty.. it's gorgeous as is, as are you..!
Beautiful, a sad, and I'm sure, painful sonnet to write, yet you've described the sorrow and the apprehension perfectly. I love the part about the "loon's plantive call." To me, that drives the point of the sadness into the reader. The visual images, of drifting snow and the frozen lake, are austere, but that lonesome call of the Loon, that hurts.
Suggestions: L3 "Languor enthralls my heart as dreams awake-" L6 A semicolon after "call;" L7 A comma after "love,"
Again, I found this to be, using one of your words, "haunting." Beautifully so.
I'm sure the experience was a painful one and for that you have my condolences.
this is really a beautiful tribute indeed. you have a gorgeous writing style. the message and the structure you gave to this piece is exquisite. i literally felt your pain, your forlornness not having him around anymore. it is a tender and heartfelt write. it never losses its rhyme and only increases in intensity and imagery.
December’s chill hangs thick above Bull Lake as moon-white spectres swirl through windswept snow.
this really is powerful stuff. i was captivated immediately. you took me on a broken yet sublime tour. certainly a fitting tribute for anyone.
The bonds of winter silent sorrows bring to those for whom there is no certain Spring.
to me this was the climax of the piece. it fits perfectly with the first line. both are most excellent. truly enjoyed it. God bless john-paul
I have the same question as fredmelden. I think it should be languid or "My heart enthralled by languor, dreams awake–". I also that slight idiosyncrasies in the rhythm of closed-form works give them charm (and there are very few perfect" sonnets anyway). Aw, I think the winter metaphor is nice not every metaphor has to be novel. (That's probably the last thing anyone would expect me to say, but it's true). I like how nearly every word (excepting the "utilitarian" ones) contributes to the mood of this piece. I'm sorry that my comments are so bad lately.
Sally, the vision of the torpid fish keeps this firmly in the dark side of winter and is echoed in the last couplet. The loons add an echo of the longing and sadness. I thik things written to express our feelings for others are the hardest to write because we have a hard time being satisfied with our output, but I really don't see anything that I would change on this. The emotion and message are there, but they are woven withing your beautiful scene so that we are left with a desolate type of beauty and melancholy.
A truly lovely and heartfelt poem. You did a wonderful job with this sonnet. When you write things that are truly personal in nature they really stand alone. You cant put any pricetag on a lost friendship, an untimely death. There is nothing that can change it, make it go away, and the feelings you are left with create beautiful poems such as this one. This is really lovely and not a word I would change. The last two lines are just perfect and the metaphor here is as well. Sorry for your loss. This is beautiful.
A beautiful sonnet, one of my favorite forms, congratulations! it was an immense pleasure to read. Form and content combine perfectly to clearly express your meaning and intent. The structure perfectly fits the classical model in the way the argument is developed. The images are clear, powerful and coherent (and I'm not sure the metaphors are so classical, first time I've seen the torpid fish, for instance, which I really think works. I also really enjoy your work on sound form. The rhymes are good, and the internal rhyme (sifting / drift) and alliteration are beautiful (e.g. WHite Spectres SWirl through Wind SWept Snow). I really like every line, and the final couplet is deeply moving. Thank you very much again for this beautiful piece. PH
Question: Why did you use languor instead of languid? Just curious. The rhythm is near perfect – only “urgencies” makes it a teeny bit off, but I would certainly not change it. The poem borders on sentimental, but I truly like this first part. I like your capitalizing “Time”, personifying it, which fits this poem perfectly. Your attention to detail here is wonderful. Unlike so many contributors to this site, you didn’t just scrawl this out between TV commercials. Your command of language is good without running off into the arcane. This is about an admiration of nature’s beauty – not a profound subject, nor an original theme. For me, one who loves that beauty too, this is a fine expression of the feelings that arise in me (though snow weather is not my preference) when confronted by nature. Your last three lines represent a change in mood – not an off-putting one, but one that adds depth to the piece. It redefines the beauty of nature within human philosophical terms. It is exactly what the poem needs. Writes like these are what make this site 10 cuts above any others I’ve seen. fred
I remember this piece and it seems that you did change quite alot. It's the torpid fish that I recall the glazed look of the eye that echos winter's frozen stop in growth's time.
You have a gift for lyricism and I feel you don't count so much as understand that it's intuitive. Music is the medium of metric poetry and sound of words in this version is clearer along with your meaning. You have created the layers of focus and perspective that we submit to a kalidescope vision of poetry, even then when we shift the view with a turn, a different way to see things.
I have one suggestion but only because I saw it. You decide if you can live with it.
For Time is like the sifting snow that drifts enshrouding urgencies of yesterday; austere and still, the landscape ever shifts between divine release and mortal sway.
For Time is like the sifting snow that drifts enshrouding urgent leaves of yesterday
the reason being that urgencies doesn't create a picture and urgent leaves does especially of love lost and how it makes time stand still until we heal. and any kind of love for that matter. And it tells of loss through death and echoes the nature and even paper as leaves or notes left behind. As I say, you decide.
Just one more thing, this line in relationship to the loons..
that echoes through the blue wind’s plaintive squall.
I'm there and I hear it, and so much of what you see, you are able to share with us. Lovely, I'm glad to see you post. I have to leave because it's cold here .
Submission Name: In Winter’s Thrall
