Sonnet XX: Forget the Night by williamszm, literature
Literature
Sonnet XX: Forget the Night
Above, stars shaking glimmers of their light
To meld through dusty blue and moonlit grey
Forget the night; embrace the waking day
While sunlight stopsarrested in its flight
Somewhere beyond the sea, as if the sight
Of such bright stars could force it stay away.
But nothe wait is but a brief delay
Before the sun dispels the ling'ring night.
If I could make the shift as readily!
Forget the moon, and banish all the stars
And youwho like them knows not when to wane
But lingers still in day so steadily.
Oh friend, your time has passedyou are too far
Why can't you let me love what light remains?
Tully and I each slump into a wooden rocker and kick off our muddy boots. I flick my glowing plait over my shoulder, sigh at the task at hand. Aunt Mona had, moments before, wrangled us inside only to send us to the front porch to shuck dinner's corn.
"'s'lot of corn," I say, gazing beyond the bucket to the open fields, and then further, to the trees at the start of the thicket. I think of the watermelon, half carved in the kitchen, wipe the sweat from my brow, "'s'lot of sun."
Tully picks up a piece of corn, runs one finger along the corn silk sticking out of the top, then rubs it under her chin.
You reach back for it, that time
he sat there, blank, as you repeated yourself.
There was a crack in the kitchen floor
(It's still there. He isn't.)
And the sun was setting
which should be a metaphor
but all that happened was a dark room
with you two in it.
If you could go back and see
would it still look that way?
Gray with pointless murmurs
and the broken sink giving commas
to the things that you had said before?
If he didn't listen, neither did you.
(You're still there, someone fixed the sink.)
Don't wish you could change it
It's just a moment, like any other.
You went to sleep and woke up
determined and went to sleep aga
First lesson about writing: Characters are what makes the story.
Think about your favorite story. Ever.
Well, I can't think about mine, so I'll go for "Which French anti-hero do I feel like fangirling for today?" Narrowly beating out the story about the tragic relationship between the bohemian sociopath with the amazing set of pipes and unfortunate skin condition (unless he's being played by Gerard Butler) and a Scandinavian soprano is The Count of Monte Cristo. That novel is, in its unabridged printing, thick enough to bludgeon a walrus with. It starts off pretty fast, but gets slow just as quickly. It's not a book for the short of attenti
Every woman is nervous on the day of her wedding. This had sounded like a cliché when my mother had told me this, but now on the threshold of the same event my body was displaying all the signs of a blushing bride. Perversely, my mind was utterly calm. It had better things to worry about. Like the discovery I had been working on for the last five years.
The scheduled unveiling should have taken place a while ago. But my parents dropped this bomb on me. Marry His Highness, Alexander Petraeus Marcus Maxmillian the VIIIth, Prince and heir of the Andromeda Galaxy, and the last family to retain ties to Earth. In my opinion their claim to be
Merry flashes roll and cry
Beguiling force of Heaven's wry
The crackling wind, shifts and sways
Speckled silver flakes its rays
Wanderer of brilliant shuttered shade
Is it a dream because I love you or a nightmare because letting you go will be the worst possible conclusion?
Don't love too much,
or it's sure to end in dismay;
Even if you dream of such
I warn you it'll end this way.
Keep yourself a safe distance
from what you hold dear.
Love a little,
not too much,
I ensure you my dreams are clear.
I dream of that place
right in the middle
where nightmares flutter
nearby.
But they don't quite touch,
no, not close enough
to leave me wanting to hide.
I dream of love that's close enough
to have a companion or two;
but not so close that when they are gone
I feel myself come unglued.
But th
"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face; now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known."
-1 Corinthians 13:12
"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?"
-Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
"In another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly down into the Looking-glass room. The very first thing she did was to look whether there was a fire in the fireplace, and she was quite pleased to find t
It had been a month since she'd been in that house on the corner of Schindler and Hart, the one with the ivy that had long ago choked the brick into submission. A month since she'd been in that room with all the posters and pictures of good times. Of the things before. Parts of her were at peace with what she had come to do. Parts of her hated it.
She climbed the crumbling stairs, and noted that the walnut-colored door was wide open, leaving only the broken screen door between the Harppins and the bugs of August. Tentatively, she knocked on the green frame around the screen. In an instant she heard footsteps on the wooden floor within. Mrs.