Sonnet 164

Black waves now white with rage lash at the shore
Wet fingers clawing ragged cliffs of grey,
Tall stalwart stones still silent, moist with tears,
Saturnine, strong, with nothing left to say;
And still the waves lash out yet time again –
As if persistence might soon breach the wall,
Wroth tortured tantrum, seething, spite sustained,
Rebuffed in foam and shattered screams, they fall.
Oh life, oh love, oh hope, oh destiny!
What might I yet have done to have prevailed?
What pride resides in fool’s futility?
What providence should stand here unassailed?
So with pure might, ‘gainst savage stone I stand,
‘Til sweat and blood and tears grind stone to sand.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s