Sonnet XXIX: Acrostic Style
©06-23-21, Olan L. Smith
Now come the dawn of night within my soul;
Lay me beneath the earth, and you do watch
Me, low upon my breast of times of old.
Down our God did come to live, his only botch
To change what makes us slight and stained; enfold
Sleep beneath the dirt, it rots our flesh deathblow.
I ask this every night, save my heart consoled,
Pray to God who knocks so firm the winnow.
The Man, however, comes to take me home
Lord catch me in your hands and help disrobe
My core, and I do live within your tome.
Soul: This man, his time complete upon this globe,
To live or die is your demand, evermore
Keep me within your hands, I die no more.
A.N. This particular poem has be rattling around in the back of my mind for years, so today I wrote it down as an acrostic sonnet, a first for me. The acrostic, in this case of using words instead of letters controls the iambic rhythm, and by that I mean whether it is ten or eleven syllables long, and if it's a female-female line, or if it has male-male lilt.