Silent is the night as I stare upon the blank page,
marveling what radiance may come by thy pen.
Worried thy mind might be trapped within a cage,
as silenced poets were no longer the wiser men.
Blocked from this world, sheltered from all life,
I languish for daylight while pining for new hope.
The struggles nag thy brain like a hateful wife,
stressed to bring about work of immense scope.
It should not feel this hard, never this strained,
words should want to flow out of thee like a river.
Rather than feeling this confined, this restrained,
fearing not a word shall ever run off thy quiver.
Art like life is difficult to drag forth into the light,
as onemust keep fighting and continue to write.
YOU ARE READING
Sonnets
PoetryA collection of poetry written in a specific rhyme pattern. I hope you enjoy reading these sonnets as much as I did writing them.
