web analytics

Sonnet #8 in Iambic Tetrameter – A White Hart

What do we find ourselves inside?
The Roman army’s moving north.
A sacrifice the snake won’t die.
The oblations smoke is rising fourth.

Wish you could fall in love with me.
The sacrament’s the gateless gate.
I could turn you back from a stream
Fulfilling or escaping fate.

The Garden’s walls are Persian blue
Aladdin’s castle’s Spanish bound.
It all comes down to me or you
If secrets hid are ever found.

Our Jinn fall down a Roman well.
The white hart runs without a trail.

©2013 Stephen K. Pickering

Related Posts:





, ,




Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.