Dreaming - A Sonnet
This has a similar theme to my last poem, but is in the form of a sonnet.
If dreaming of you leads to naught but pain
At chance foregone and juncture yet unknown,
Still dream I shall, to be with you again,
For opened eyes might see that I’m alone.
A dream contains the essence of the real,
A mirror holds the scene intact, pristine,
And dreaming of you surely could reveal
Our love, which, waking, you so oft demean.
But dreams are like the surface of a lake,
A crystal pane, a hanging spider’s web,
And so, once touched, with shards and splinters break,
No more to glisten, only now to ebb.
And now I hope my dreams will clamber from my head,
If not, I fear, I’ll give up life instead.
- Oliver Schofield
No Greater Tempest Ever Rocks the Shore
No greater tempest ever rocks the shore,
Than that which in my heart doth rage away,
My love will not obey a higher law,
Nor listen to that which my mind may say.
If love is harsh then how can it be kind?
The ropes between us are so tightly bound,
Just as the ones between a man and hind,
Yet as your silken slave myself I found.
But how can I so flawed lie next to you,
When my resolve cannot withstand the thought,
That you might realise my status too,
And I should lose the prize for which I fought.
But if you quench the raging fires of doubt,
I shall to you always remain devout.
- Oliver Schofield
