Oh why have you deserted me these nights,
your golden wings and glistening silver beak?
We soared through star lit skies to mystic sites
my Namrah, childhood friend, to me unique.
Adulthood now, so taxed by tasks each day
the years have sped, imagination dulled.
My dreams are doors no more, no passage way,
no you. But stress instead, and nightmares mulled.
Oh why have you deserted me these years?
Is there another child who claimed your dreams
whilst I, within the dark, doth shed my tears
for youthful innocence and moonbeam gleams.
As wrinkles steep and footsteps slow my gait,
I see the light in death’s dawn – tis there you wait.
Written for dVerse MTB where Bjorn hosts and asks us to write a sonnet. Sonnets can take a number of forms. I’ve chosen a Shakespearean Sonnet: 14 lines with the following rhyme scheme in iambic pentameter: ABAB, CDCD, EFEF, GG. I find this form extremely difficult and find myself counting out syllables etc on my fingers. So this is my go at it. A Shakespeare I’m not! PS: Over the years I’ve written a number of poems about Namrah. Many folks have childhood imaginary friends. I did not – but I’ve created Namrah in a number of poems, speaking in the first person, as if this beautiful mythcal bird is just that.
Your counting and struggling added up to a beautiful sonnet. By the was, I am like you. i struggle with most poems of form because in the 50+ years I have written, I am drawn to my own approach to free verse minimalism. But this is beautiful Lillian! Also, I believe you can actually still conjure Namrah from your adult imagination! Just close you eyes, and repeat Namrah three times while holding a small pinch of fairy dust in your cupped right hand. That’s all it will take, I am certain!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah thank you for your very kind words, Rob. Much appreciated! And yes….I think there is a bit of fairy dust out there for all of us if we just would acquiesce! 🙂
LikeLike
I was never able to focus my childhood imagination on one magical creature, be it bird, lion or dragon. Reading Edgar Rice Burroughs and such, I dream dwelt in Narnia, Mars and Inner Earth
I like the Shakespearian rhyme scheme too; may have to do another poem for kicks.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh Glenn…..you can do the Shakespearian rhyme scheme just for kicks? I am sooooo jealous.
Namrah is purely fictional in occasional poems I write. Never was in my childhood. For me, I loved my doll collection and played imaginatively with them for years. 🙂
LikeLike
Well done, Lillian! Next, the sestina!!! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Rest assured… the sestina will come… but we are saving the best challenge to later.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wisely so.
LikeLike
Glad you enjoyed, Charley. And now my confession…..I have no idea what a sestina is! But I’m sure I’ll eventually find out! Don’t spoil the surprise….all in due time.
LikeLike
I won’t spoil it. However, you might want to start working out… in preparation for it! 🙂
LikeLike
Nice line: “My dreams are doors no more, no passage way,” And nice reference to the dawn at the end.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Frank. A struggle to write….but Namrah was finally let free 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I enjoy first-person poems, with their verisimilitude and anecdotal feel. I imagined you as a small child, flying and having adventures with Namrah. And you are so right, Lill, adulthood is taxed by daily tasks, when what we really want is to fly away in our imagination. I identify with your final couplet!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for the thoughtful comment here, Kim. Yes….I think that’s why being a parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle can be so fun….we use our imagination again when we play with small children…we enter their world so to speak! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the way you describe your childhood friend and though the end speaks about death it’s filled with hope.
My childhood was never filled with that kind of fantasy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mine neither, Bjorn. Although I did play a lot with my dolls — and imaginately as if they were alive. Well, they were for me! Namrah is an imaginative creature that appears occasionally in my poems…as if he is my childhood friend. I do enjoy shifting into that personna! 🙂
LikeLike
I LOVE those closing lines…….yes, there it waits indeed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Friendship awaiting in our next world! 🙂
LikeLike
I feel your angst throughout until you are able to grasp a jewel of solace. beautifully done
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh these are such kind words. Thank you so much for your thoughtful reply! 🙂 Truly appreciated.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are welcome.
LikeLike
fun — you even kept older English words
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad you enjoyed!
LikeLike
The words rolled off my tongue as I read this aloud. Very smooth considering how difficult it is to stick with the rhyme and rhythm of a sonnet. By the way,I think the imagination has never left you, Lillian. I have felt it often in your poetry. Your “rejuvenatement” and zest for life shines through in your work.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah Mish…..I am in San Diego for a bit. It is a grey rainy (but warm) day and reading your comment made me smile. Thank you so very much for your kind words. They are truly appreciated!
LikeLike
The sun will prevail in San Diego. 🙂 My stepdaughter lives there. She works at The Wine Pub where she also does pasta making workshops!
( Pasta Bella San Diego ) Enjoy your time there.
LikeLike
the words fly through sliver skies smoothly off the back of you friend, calling out, and then the turn to peace and reconciliation is so comforting. I have posted late to this sonnetpalooza prompt, and I am glad I am going through it so we got to glide with Namrah, (your imaginary imaginary friend, heehee!)
The silver wings and glistening beak, the light in death’s dawn. Such beautiful lyric Lillian!
LikeLike
I am still working my way through the sonnets. I think this is a lovely reflection upon childhood, growing up, and what may come. Beautiful images here, Lillian.
I didn’t have a long-term imaginary friend, but my sister and I had an imaginary family–with neighbors–who lived in our closet. My daughters still have their special stuffed animal toys who were (are) so alive that my husband and I still quote the things they said.
LikeLike
I like the circles contained in this sonnet. Swooping like the golden bird. (K)
LikeLike