The Piper Must Be Paid (English sonnet)

by Ben Pickard   Mar 11, 2019


Demurely do the summers seem to pass -
Their ripples barely ever reach the shore;
They gift a redolence that seldom lasts
And leave our hearts forever craving more.
Fugacious is the buttercup that peeps
And fleeting are the blossoms on the breeze;
How sharp the teardrop freezes on my cheeks -
Alas, the frost so quickly cracks the trees.
The Highland's burns all trickle with a ruse
And England's brooks all gabble with a sneer.
We must begin to think ourselves obtuse
By deeming nature's all as gladsome cheer.
Who stole the serpent's gold without a burn?
Who thought the winter's chill would not return?

--

Ben Pickard

8


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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by James E Garrett

    A greatful sonnet of beauty.

  • 1 month ago

    by Michael

    Congratulations on your win Ben , with a fine sonnet indeed :)

  • 2 months ago

    by Daniel

    Another outstanding sonnet, Ben. Gloriously penned as always. I find your verb use extremely extensive.

  • 2 months ago

    by Brenda

    Beautifully done Ben...your sonnets are true masterpieces.

  • 2 months ago

    by CRAFTY KEN

    Hey Ben, nice twist for Mother Nature's icy stinging kiss. I don't miss those cold snowy days from up North, but, remember the stunning beauty of the tree branches covered with ice, shimmering in the Sunshine, with a soft blanket of snow covering the ground.
    Nice work, added to my Favorites.

    • 2 months ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thank you so much, Ken. You are right - there is beauty in the winter, too.

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