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THE HOURS OF LOVE

Updated on December 10, 2010

I came across this sonnet which I entered in a Valentine's Day contest on the Prairie Home Companion radio show in 2000. Just thought I would share it with you all. I am not William Shakespeare, but a sonnet all the same!

THE HOURS OF LOVE


When love awakes, like sandy eyes at dawn
Still dreaming Knights and Maidens faire, her heart
And his dance on till noon.  Then dreams be gone.
The sun burns bright.  Once captured hearts apart.
A cruel fate for lovers once bound fast.
Confusion dances now.  The heat, the sweat,
The work of love, the fire that makes love last.
At length, deep hues, blue pink, the sun is set.
The twilight glows and quarrels rest.  A time
For healing wounds and tears for death is near.
The warmth preferred to cold, the hour to chime
The wedding bells again, to know no fear.
Their arms wrapt firmly ‘round their souls’ desire
To dream to dance in heaven’s sleep retire.

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    • Amy Becherer profile image

      Amy Becherer 6 years ago from St. Louis, MO

      Love is a dance, for sure. Although, the journey is as different as each partaker, you managed to capture the dance perfectly clear. Beautiful, awesome, yet real. I love this poem.

    • Lady Wordsmith profile image

      Linda Rawlinson 6 years ago from Lancaster, UK

      That is so very beautiful. I can't write poetry myself, but I can appreciate good stuff when I see it. Excellent.

      Linda.

    • vrbmft profile image
      Author

      Vernon Bradley 6 years ago from Yucaipa, California

      Wow! This is my one and only sonnett and I tell you it was not easy, in fact, I am amazed that it all fell into place. Like I said, I found this last night in a pile of "stuff." I am so touched that you both enjoyed it. I usually write very free verse and it was fun, altho a long time ago, to discipline myself and write within the sonnett structure. Fourteen lines and iambic pantameter.

      AMY, Love is definitely a dance and the last chapter of my book on relationahips is called "Know There Is A Dance."

      Lady Wordsmith, try your hand or your fingers at poetry.

      The reality is that NONE of us write any of our creations, at least if they are really good! The art, so to speak, is opening up to the creative Spirit and letting the prose or poetry or painting or sculpting or whatever it is, music, to flow through us. Believe me, I did not write this Sonnett. Yes, I am the legitimate author, but not the ultimate artist, but I get to be the instrument anad that is awesome all by itself.

      Anywho, Thanks for reading and commenting.

      Vern

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      terri h 6 years ago

      LOved it simply beautiful!

    • vrbmft profile image
      Author

      Vernon Bradley 6 years ago from Yucaipa, California

      Hi, Terri,

      Glad you loved it. I invite you to begin posting your poetry on here. We all deserve to read it and be touched by it!

      Thanks for reading and commenting

      Vern

    • justom profile image

      justom 6 years ago from 41042

      Nice work Vern, I'm glad you're not Shakespeare, for some reason he bored me to tears (and you NEVER do that!)!! Peace and Love, Tom

    • vrbmft profile image
      Author

      Vernon Bradley 6 years ago from Yucaipa, California

      Thanks, Tom. I do not know how I actually wrote that! I think I would have to sit and find a way into that sonnet window! Glad you liked it. I guess I am glad I'm not Shakespeare either! LOL

      Love you

      Vern

    • Karanda profile image

      Karen Wilton 6 years ago from Australia

      Beautifully written Vern, I was captured in the words and the moment.

      Oh, by the way, while you were sleeping we sang Auld Lang Syne. Happy new year!

    • vrbmft profile image
      Author

      Vernon Bradley 6 years ago from Yucaipa, California

      O My God, Kranda!!! Now you are a whole year ahead of me!! I can't believe that. It sounds so twilight zonish or etherial!!! What is with you people? LOL

      Thanks for reading and commenting. I am glad you enjoyed it. It is one of those pieces where I cannot figure how it came from me and in some ways I know it didn't. Just get to be considered the author. It is a sonnet with 14 lines of iambic pentameter and I cannot remember the rhyme scheme at this moment, but it is quite an endeavor!! It really "cracks" me up when I read the finished product, but the meaning IS from my heart and experience. HAPPY NEW YEAR.

      Vern

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