SONNET NO 3 by Deepak Menon


A dryad of the Forest on a wooded mountain’s crest
Flicking in and out of the shadows of autumn leaves
A magic fleeting glimpse of dappled dreams blest
By the hand of the Creator for whom eternity grieves
. Was the love I yearned through troubled times and good
. Was the sound of a voice long gone into yesterday’s bed
. Was the being of a golden smile carved in hardened wood
. For which again and anon my dispirited heart bled
Till ensanguined it became as the pale horse of death
And the wine turned vintage and dried into grey ash
While the vessel crumbling did scream out the threat
To eject the dying spirit in one great blinding flash
. ‘Twas then that like rain from the sky – thy falling tears
. On my upturned face – gave life for the coming years.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: