I got this sonnet style poem from the Oracle this morning.
I sit in shadows cast by half-seen dreams
That drip their honeyed light on thirsty ground.
Though storms play, twisting skeins of feathered cloud
And threading them with rain, I close my eyes,
See only summer ocean, swallow-tossed,
with waves of darting blue and lightning forked.
There are roses still that climb the house about,
And songs still sung from tree to sighing tree
In the ancient shining tongues that only
Birds know, sweet and sad, rose-red and raw
With premonitions of the whispered cold,
The bare bones shifting of a year grown old.
It will come the end, hill-stalking black and stark,
Yet in the deepening sky soars spring, the lark.
Jane Dougherty Writes 
This is so beautiful 💜
I’m pleased you think so 🙂 It’s the kind of syllable-counting poem I like best.
I love it took
🙂
Oh, I love this! There’s a Yeats feel to me. Maybe it’s the songs sung and ancient tongues.
I just finally managed to visit the Oracle and write. Not as polished as yours, but with many of the same words (of course). 😀
Thank you. It’s maybe the rhythm, the ten beats to the line that makes you think of Yeats. I’ve just finished rereading Portrait of the Artist and the last section is full of allusions to Yeats.
I saw you’d posted just before I went to bed (on my phone, computer was turned off) and that it was also a much denser poem than usual. I’ll read now.
Yes, it could be the rhythm, but I think the sound of the words, too. I was trying to get some work finished, and then got phone calls and other stuff, so I didn’t get to posting till about dinner time here.
I’d already turned my computer off by then. I’ve had some lines of Yeats in my head so the words or similar probably stuck.