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Author Name: Freeborderline_mary 2 Comments
Date Added: October 20, 2011 10:10:08 Average Score: (Needs 1)
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Type: Rhyming
Category: Sonnet Add To Favorites | Text Only
 
Idaho
A little dead-brown woman in the grass
Below the mountains over Idaho,
Near bluffs that stand like castle walls in gold,
Blocks out the light with one hand made of glass
And wishes for the swift onset of snow,
For now she knows she never will grow old.
The miles before her feet have left her dumb,
Have brought her aching eyes and fine-scarred skin,
And turned her smallest fancies into sin
To leave her here where shadows never come.
Her dead-brown dream no better than a thief—
Surrender seems a smaller thing than grief;
And on the patient earth she waits for sleep,
For everything she has, she knows she'll keep.
Author's Notes:
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'Idaho' Copyright © Jessica Ruth Myr
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Comments:
Comment By: PremiumDavid Turner on October 20, 2011 03:32:55 PM Report
This is a a beautiful sonnet Jessica. The images are stunning. I too am quite unsure who the little brown woman could be, but the pathos in this is very moving. In the end we must all be prepared to surrender. I will bend my knee somewhere along the banks of the River Tyne or halfway up the path to Penny Pie House  near Blanchland Northumberland.



Warm Wishes




David

Comment By: FreeFirestone Feinberg on October 20, 2011 01:35:10 PM Report
'Idaho' is a painting.  I'm not at all sure 'what it means,'  [I'm dense that way], but it sure sounds like a special thing.  Unused to reading sonnets here -- always a pleasure to see the form.  My favorite line is: 'Surrender seems a smaller thing than grief;' -- I just love the rhythm and the natural flow of the words: congratulations on a fine work of art done:  With.  Love. --David




 


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