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Rain (Petrachan Sonnet)
October 9, 2009
The window pane is cold against my cheek,
Rain splatters down in an empty way.
Catching the wind, lonely tree branches sway,
The darkness settles and the black is bleak.
The moon rises, but is pale at its peak,
A cloud sweeps across it, silent and grey.
Rain thunders on like a common cliché,
Wind makes the house start to shudder and creak.
It is still raining and I am bored to death,
I shudder as cold air sneaks through the sill,
I am plagued by this expressionless void.
For want of something new I hold my breath,
I need something to inspire, to thrill,
A flash of lightning, the void is destroyed.
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This article has 3 comments.
notreally*here* said...
on Feb. 10 2010 at 2:00 pm
Sorry for my ignorance: what's a Petrachan sonnet?
Jon Simmons said...
on Oct. 18 2009 at 7:18 pm
Cool poem, reads like a story. I like the image of rain splattering down in an "empty" way.
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