A Shattered Heart’s Cry
June 2, 2005 by crimson-zang
The Broken Sonnet
There are no more iambics
Forgotten syllables
Unaccented appeal
The glee is consumed
By words forlorn
Hidden meanings are a blah.
And he tramples on the flakes
Of the bitter, cold snow
His bedeviled soul it can’t contain.
Two missing lines
A dozen’s found broken
Yet he struggles to mend
Every rhythm of a blighted symphony
He scavenges
And he won’t pardon
Each tear is a story
The heartaches he can’t cure
And I’m still searching to find
The sonnet’s shattered pieces.
I Love this poem… I just don’t know why… It gives me weir feelings…. I hope the author will post his interpretation. ^_^
Okay okay… so here’s what I meant in my poem…
I envisioned myself as a sonnet, a broken one. We all know a sonnet’s composed of fourteen (14) lines and like other poems, it has rhyme, meter, style etc. As a broken sonnet, I no longer have my iambics (measurement, meter in no reason nor rhyme. All my syllables are lost in mind and my appeal is without accents. The happiness in me is consumed by forlorn words, the hidden meanings don’t make sense anymore.
So I found myself trampling on the snow flakes — bitter and cold, which my cursed soul can’t contain. Two lines are missing and twelve (dozen) other lines are to be found broken (two + twelve = fourteen, the lines of a sonnet). Meaning, I am incomplete. Yet I am struggling to repair myself, seeing myself as a symphony.
I scavenge on each and every bit of happiness left in me and I won’t forgive. Every tear that I shed is a good story. I can’t cure the heartaches that I felt. And I am searching to find the shattered pieces of me (as a sonnet) to become whole again.
I know you know already how I felt like that. Nevertheless, I am recovering right now, aight?