Spiritual Poetry posted January 14, 2020


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A sonnet about sailors in distress

Prize After the Storm

by Heather L. Luke



As brutal gales attack a sailing ship,
The frantic men avoid a mad stampede.
Each working hard to flee the tides that rip,
They steer as winds increase in strength and speed.

Attempts to steady bow are done in vain,
since ballast fails to brave the ship's demise.
When praying hardly ebbs the rushing rain,
The ship prepares to sink as currents rise.

As sailors plunge in fear, soft voices call.
The siren's music echoes through the waves.
The ocean swallows souls amidst the squall,
No longer hope, except for salty graves.

As bodies float and gently wash ashore,
The sailors walk in peace through heaven's door.


 


Recognized

#73
2020


I started to avoid writing sonnets, because I was not able to process the iambic sounds well. I am attempting to try again. Thanks go out to Phill Doran for teaching me that dictionary.com lists the stressed and unstressed syllables. I actually had fun trying to come up with this poem. Hope you enjoy!


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© Copyright 2020. Heather L. Luke All rights reserved.
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