https://reader2951.deviantart.com/art/Sonnet-Petit-Tutorial-275829034 to the tutorial
The Harvest Moon, yiwei by Parsat, literature
Literature
The Harvest Moon, yiwei
We stood outside, awaiting the convergence
of three paths: one of blood and one of fullness,
One of shadow's ebb and light's emergence.
But dark clouds from the dying day brought dullness
And masked the celebrated rise despite
Our table, decked with all the fruits of harvest.
The timing and direction beyond our sight,
Still we had a love feast to digest.
Though past control, we finished healed and whole.
I do not know how you have filled my heart
With hope to love again, as if I woke
From slumber to a place where dreams impart
Their visions of the future in a stroke.
And though you have not held the pen for long
To scribe within my life your poetry,
Inside my chest there swells a growing song
With lyrics you will one night sing to me.
The days are fading now that I am waiting.
The child passed by my seat with empty palms
And begged for love to fill its soulful eyes.
For 'twas not hunger nor the need for alms
That left the waif so piteous in guise.
She had her home, if four walls and a roof
Was all the meaning she should yet require;
But in that place all hearts remained aloof,
A negligence deserving of all ire.
She stood in place; I stood and turned my face.
That you should in my eyes appear so fair,
The one seen by the maidens and called blessed!
So plain each feature, but combined how rare,
No blinding looks deny my eyes their rest.
She is the perfect one His hands gave shape,
No part bears more distinction, minus one:
The shining countenance she lets escape
Before she laughs and after she is done.
In seeing her amused, I find my muse.
I cannot say the time I fully knew--
The hour or the time it came to me--
The call from God that pointed right at you
And proved you lovely far as I could see.
But I recall those peaceful walks we made
Through morning mists en route to cozy homes.
You lived upstairs. I heard your footsteps fade
And felt an unknown twinge inside my bones.
That growing pains would turn into my gain!
And thus I stood where thresholds melt like glass
Becoming indistinct as light, withdrawn,
Denies the pilgrim knowledge of the mass
And weight of this, the journey he is on.
There I remained, awaiting thresholds, taut
As dogs await the master's sign to run.
The pilgrim finds delight in roads he sought,
But fear instead when thresholds show him none.
Oh light, remain, thou unabashed stain.
Your pen has torn the pages of my heart
its blossoms scattered freely on the floor.
Your words a burning hell, the demon's art,
of our demise on love's forbidden shore.
Let darkness flood the mind and soul bereft
of life upon this mortal stage, and pierce
the bleeding heart and be an end to fit
what words began. A knife is not more fierce.
Lying words a curse, this blade is no worse.
Seditious inclinations seethe submerged.
Weeping meat is painted to look like flesh.
What savageries lurk, longing to be purged?
Fetid, rotten insides tear wounds afresh.
Can such filth, dark as coal, produce these gems
that fall from my lips like toads from their maws?
We who fear the dark of night, light condemns.
Wallow in what lies in masks filled with flaws.
Subsume this foul pit; would your soul submit?
The Writer's Song by intricately-ordinary, literature
Literature
The Writer's Song
papery fingers flutter in the wind
a rustling melody's echo ensues
with long out-stretched arms they take me in
a magic rabbit hole I fall into
what masquerades of character and scene!
where yesterday merges with tomorrow
a land where reality's just a dream
and happiness holds a hand with sorrow
I can belong, I sing the writer's song
form finds its function in a poet's pen;
thought can flow freely regardless of rules.
rhythm and rhyme: merely means to an end;
practice makes perfect when testing new tools.
restriction's reins evoke evolution,
but watch begetting maudlin mutations;
losing thought's thread can cause convolutions,
winding one up with erased elation.
the tracing of a poet's trail is laced with triumphs and travails.