← Back to portfolio

Waking (A Poor Man's Sonnet)

Published on

To be what we are is matter of labour, 

There is nothing more wished on Earth than 

The flowering of human souls by the creator 

Some say we are sleeping - others simply run, 

She who, the lone hours knows, a direction 

Time’s mere motion cannot ken to fathom 

Nor the fury’s pace of great elections, 

Ever trampled, ever scourged, ever sought - 

The blossom of a heart unknown’s power: 

Hides all, holds all, knows all;                                          

                              yet bought, rent, sold. 

The divine within the chest begins to sour 

Make haste now, sow the soul, prepare the flower, 

What is, must be; pray not to the penny nor the hour. 

2 Comments Add a Comment?

Permalink

James

Posted on Sept. 16, 2021, 1:10 p.m.

Incredible work, Christie. That's beautiful & powerful.

Permalink

Christie Murphy

Posted on Sept. 25, 2021, 8:56 p.m.

Thank you James.

Add a comment
You can use markdown for links, quotes, bold, italics and lists. View a guide to Markdown
This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. You will need to verify your email to approve this comment. All comments are subject to moderation.
Close