Oooh, what a perfect sonnet. What an excellent subject. Well done!
Terri )O(
-----Original Message-----
From: The Pennine Poetry Works [mailto:[log in to unmask]]On
Behalf Of grasshopper
Sent: 28 September 2003 10:50
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: New sub: The Biographer
The Biographer
How hard it is to write of death, when Death
stands at your rounded shoulder, bending near
as if to read the words. True, in the breadth
of mortal shocks, a death is nothing rare
yet you have lingered on his early life,
his word-plays, wit, and fame : the fairy-tale.
And how he sparkled, like refracted light
mosaic-ed on a Monarch's wing - and just as frail.
One lapse would brush him down to earth, and pin
him flat. Now follow that descent, record
the toll extracted by his fatal whim,
his end, no longer feted or adored.
You pen the final words: your subject's done;
Death dries your page with sand, and whispers, Come.
(grasshopper)
|