(A Clarean Sonnet)
If I had ever taken note at school,
those moments often shunned by this poor fool,
of literature, philosophy and tomes
that offered us the sustenance of poems.
Be gowned, our masters strenuously plead
that sonnets and soliloquy we read
to dress our minds and feed our souls with love
of words that speak a language from above
our mundane daily toil; speak of the day
when I am moved with eloquence to say
“I understand … Oh now I understand!”
And when I feel my heart in her soft hands
I move to paint her love with words I see
embedded in my mind’s sweet mystery.
© 2012 John Anstie (This poem was submitted for the ‘FormForAll:Clarian Sonnets’ over at the dVerse Poets Pub where Samuel Peralta (Twitter ID @semaphore) is teaching us about the sonnets of early 19th century poet, John Clare.)