Sonnet No. 2

I tried to write a sonnet. I was quite proud of it, but it didn't win.


Engaged since birth against one deadly foe,

A mortal combat all must surely yield,

No clemency or kindness can we know,

No soul alive will leave this battlefield.


The lines of combat proudly crease my face,

My hair turns slowly, unabashed, to gray.

I must accept with honour and good grace,

to bear my body’s beautiful decay.


Though some may purchase tenuous reprieve,

The final shilling given, none refuse,

No rank or wealth the enemy deceive,

Each soldier fights alone and fights to lose.


Thus ev’ry living being heeds the call,

And Time will conquer each and vanquish all.


◄ Fatigue

"Devoir anglais" ►


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Becky Who

Thu 26th Mar 2020 17:20

Thank you for the kind comments. There's something about both iambic pentameter and sonnet form that speaks to me.

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M.C. Newberry

Thu 26th Mar 2020 14:04

A new take in an old style on a timeless theme. Crafted with skill, care and commitment - worthy of inclusion in some anthology of poems about life and death.
Thomas Gray would know and nod approvingly.


Thu 26th Mar 2020 07:20

So true!! Well written!!

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