Sunday’s Sonnet: Romantic


The business of poetry is to act as a hammer in the eye
To break the sleep-solid sand away from what we see
To catch the sandman’s gift in grains falling as they die
And to hold them up against what is and what should be

What is there—what is absolutely real
Is only half the story of where we live
The other half is asking why we see the ideal
Why we feel this world has more to give

If we accept things should be just as they are
We condemn ourselves to death by drowning slow
We’re out of place—we’re out of places far
Despite the fight we wage to not to know

A poet sets his tripod up on Elysium’s pale cool lawn
And sets his place as sniper at the gates of dawn


About MishaBurnett

I am the author of "Catskinner's Book", a science fiction novel available on Amazon Kindle.
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2 Responses to Sunday’s Sonnet: Romantic

  1. This is one of my favorites of your series of sonnets. 🙂

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