Many years ago when I was taking literature in college (ouch, it hurts to say many years ago!), we had a paper in Poetry and one of the group assignments in that paper we had was to write a sonnet. The term sonnet is derived from the Italian word sonetto and signifies a poem of fourteen lines that follows a strict rhyme scheme and specific structure. We must have been a group of four or five and among them I was the only overenthusiastic poet who took this task upon myself. To tell you a secret my enthusiasm must have been largely because of this cute looking guy I had a huge crush on and was hoping to impress with my poetic skills (as if this was a Victorian Romance). I stumbled upon this sonnet today and felt like sharing it. It won second prize and the only comment I remember the Prof. made at the time was this is a “terse” poem. I had to go back home and look up what that word meant.
So here it is:
Art by Janaye Book on fineartamerica.com
Youth knocking at her door- Gentle yet persistent
Screams of her country binding her heart.
The urges he stirred in her- Compelling and insistent
Bearing the sting of muffled feelings- her heart torn apart.
Her roots in the exploited, and his from the enslavers start.
Time-place of their beginning- hard to point.
Of different skin colours- their love was like art
No connection in lives’ – yet their existences joint.
The rebel in her craved for the doom of his traitor race
The injustice, the grief caused made her patriotic blood boil.
Her anguish disappeared – just the sight of his face.
No love is less or more- for lover or for soil.
A doomed love in a bruised nation.
A battle of affections without salvation.