Tom Specer -The Writer's E-Zine Home (English Sonnet)

I'm finding more and more that Poems are the workings of the artistically challenged. The more reading I do, the more math pops up - it's everywhere! I feel like Charlie Brown trying to kick the foot ball and consistently being deceived by a trusted method. Reading the inner workings of the English sonnet was like watching a documentary on mucus; you had no idea something so gross had so much versatility, but in all honesty you would rather just not know. At the end of the article, Spencer gives an example using "Lost Love," a traditional sonnet.

"Most often in the fading light of day
When becalmed the lake, like glass it be
Your image deep within my soul will stay
A ghostly moon creates a dream of thee
My mind will reel in distant reveries
Of life and youth of love, indecision
Aspirations then, now but memories
Of foolish youth and grandiose visions
While in this depth of Idle thought,
I stand Clear the winter's air, sharp the bite of frost
Alone upon this fallow barren land I think of you,
reviewing what is lost Love of you,
so very deep entrenched From life,
from me, tragic death, has wrenched." -Tom Spencer

The poem reflects love and life lost through uncontrollable circumstances. This man has seen broken, he has known pain. So why make something so simply beautiful so horrifyingly complicated? If poetry is a math wiz' guide to art...then I’m in range of being disappointed with it all together.