Sonnets

So, I wrote these sonnets for one of my classes and thought I would post them, since I haven't had the time to write a proper post. The first one my teacher really liked, except that it was old fashioned sounding and he wanted one that was more modern. It's surprising how hard it is to change something once you've already written it. He wanted me to use some of the same imagery, but it's hard to incorporate old writing into new. I ended up scratching the whole thing and came up with the second, which I liked better. So anyhow, I'm putting up the first poem, and then the revised second.


Oh, swift betrayal on a winter’s eve,
when snow lies like white lambs upon a hill
in peace. No warning does the night receive—
spring crouches in and none deny its skill.
A mellow day on winter’s door may knock,
or rushes in with lion savage rain—
and takes one day to scatter all the flock
of lambs across the hillside once again.
Though April rains are told to bring new life
a sacrifice is made. Oh gentle hand,
the stiller of the savage brandished knife,
in grace you bow out in a manner grand.
And as one season’s sent unto its grave,
spring marches in; well battled, scarred and brave.


Here is the second "new and improved" poem:

But spring, you are no lady. I can tell.
While others find you sweet to ponder on
I know inside you’re a fierce Amazon,
one breast shy. Not by your charms winters fail.
Your tears can wash away winter’s resolve
to stay. Or melt the snow with dim sunlight.
Your beauty’s proved, since after every fight
under new flesh of green your scars dissolve.
I find it no surprise that you should rest
your hy’cinth blooms, who knife their way through dirt
of frozen months. They stall, two weeks, from hurt
before erupting bright in fragrant best.
And yet, we love you for the way you dust
red tulips, drops of blood, on winter’s crust.