18 Tuesday Dec 2018
Posted in Poetry by Catherine Castle
It’s getting cold! And winter starts tomorrow. So, I’m celebrating the season over at SMP authors blog today with an original poem I wrote. Come join me to learn about sonnets and read my Winter Sonnet. For a peek at my poem, just follow this link.
31 Tuesday Dec 2013
Posted in Blog, Catherine Castle author, Poetry by Catherine Castle
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On December 19th I guest blogged on Tamara Kraft’s Word Sharpener’s blog with a Christmas sonnet I had written this season entitled Christmas Magic. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed creating this particular poetic form and, consequently, wrote another sonnet a few days later. Of course, it hadn’t hurt that I had been semi following Robert Brewer’s November Poem A Day writing prompts and had the old poetry wheels oiled.
I thought since the holiday season ends tonight, I’d put the second of this year’s sonnets on the blog today. I’ve added the one from The Word Sharpeners, too. I hope you enjoy these sonnets.
Happy New Year, and keep writing in 2014. I know I plan to do so.
photo by Catherine Castle
Christmas Magic © 2013
By Catherine Castle
What magic lies within the stable door?
Is it the lullaby so sweetly sung,
a song that lifts the heart and comforts souls,
sung from mother’s lips to swaddled newborn son?
Is it the shepherds or the lowing sheep
or hov’ring angels stippled in starlight
who keep a watchful vigil while he sleeps,
tucked in a bed of straw to rest the night?
Though magic lies within all of these things
we think about on every Christmas Eve,
true magic lies within the shadows crossed
upon his blessed head where thorns aggrieve
and in his hands where Jesus took the blame
to stay my soul and purify my name.
photo by DRH
A Winter Sonnet .© 2013
By Catherine Castle
Whiteness lies ’round, thick and cold and silent,
save the howling winds that swirl pristine flakes
like twirling ballerina swans intent
on pirouettes ’round imaginary lakes.
Jack Frost has come to town, his hoary breath
blanketing earth and hearth and seas and trees
until snow lays aground like kudzo death,
smothering all within its path. No beast
or man dares break the whiteness while the storm
flies. All lie curled at fireside, snug beneath
grandma’s quilt, drink at hand, awaiting morn
when dawn dispels the dark and sunlight wreaths
day, casting diamonds down. A winter day’s
magical recompense for Jack Frost’s rage.
Catherine Castle 