The Flame of Awe
An Ekphrastic Sonnet
Behold the poet, violet and blue
Melancholy and mad with love by turns
To him, only what’s beautiful is true
In him, the flame of awe too brightly burns
His eyes are black enough to drink the light
His ears are large enough to dwarf his lips
In listening he hears special delight
He savors many cups, sampled by sips
He seldom speaks, but writes without surcease
His cheeks bulge with insights not yet revealed
His wife he hopes that he will predecease
When first she spoke, he knew his fate was sealed
Making familiar things seem strange and new
Lets him make strange things seem familiar too
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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