Sorrow
Old sorrows waken at new sorrow’s birth.
Forgotten losses stir their weary heads,
As disenchantments sigh and shift their girth.
Each death emerges from its settled bed.
They come from hiding places new and old,
Returning to the mind and heart…and throat,
As if by some familiar cry they’re called
And, unexplained, the tears on which they float.
With tenderness, surrounding heart’s new wound,
They lean to lend strange comfort now and sing.
As through the rain is heard their mournful tune-
A gift that only sorrows known can bring.
They gather up the babe and take her home,
A silent landscape back to which they roam.
By Maria Brady-Smith
Photo by Mike Smith
Happy Sunday morning! If you have been following this page, you may have noticed that my poetry does not usually rhyme. I do use assonance, alliteration and internal rhyme, but sometimes that is harder to notice. This is a poem I wrote about ten years ago. It is a type of sonnet, which means that it has fourteen lines with an abab/cdcd/efef/gg rhyme pattern and each line is made up of an iambic pentameter. An iamb, or iambic foot, is one light stress followed by one heavy stress and pentameter means that there are five of these feet. Simple! Unless, of course, you want it to make sense! You should try it. It is an interesting puzzle.
Good morning Maria. Thanks for the Sunday morning poem sendoff.
Thanks for taking the time to read it before you go!
Thank you
<3