Days nine and ten of the May Sonnet Challenge. Getting closer to the end!
Son of Iron (Spenserian Sonnet)
Perfect form and face and bright blue eyes
Or gray as summer sea. So cold and tall
And how impassive–without joy or sighs
And lacking any fervor shown at all.
The warrior of the stars, the last to fall
Cradled in the blood-warm hands of Mars
Noble in his task however small
And righteous in his watching of the stars.
But come, O son of iron; where you are
Is without hope for progress, peace, or death.
You gain increased intelligence by far
And never hope to take a human breath.
What is your right among your makers, sir?
Does no anguished hope within you stir?
Summer Rose (Reverse Sonnet)
Patience lost and fallen is the rose:
Love was in the nightfall til it froze.
Frozen was the air one summer eve
Despite the warmth and mist in fields beyond.
Leave it be to agonize and grieve;
It has no more the warmth of when it dawned.
Summer birthed our hope in future bliss
And killed it too–its dying cries forborne
Without a blink or waver. No more, this:
Each perfect moment lost I have forsworn.
You gave me roses, gardens, in the night
And I believed your lies in depths of joy.
I thought our summer roses my delight
And found they meant not love but to destroy.