Turning Over
Sonnet for a Nightmare
We never thought that god would come and see
the damage left by all of his children.
Love intended, marred by desperate pleas—
Flight of the helpless from this false Eden.
A simple cry quickly turned to shrieking.
Go wash by the moonlight your sins and toils.
Grandmother watches from her chair creaking—
The children return with the devil's spoils.
The fire of nine turns the wretched to ash,
Nothing left but the gray-black scars of death.
Eons to cultivate, gone in a flash.
The unlucky few cling to hopeless breath.
The children, the children, may they be spared.
May they find evidence that someone cared.
About the Creator
Kaitlin Oster
Professional writer.
Owner - Shadow Work Consulting, LLC
David Lynch MFA Program for Screenwriting with MIU, graduation 2023
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Comments (2)
The rhyme was so effortless in your poem that I think I was halfway through reading it before I realized that it was a rhyming poem. Really strong imagery and ideas - enjoyed the read. Congrats on the contest!
(just that "nothing" line in the 3rd stanza that breaks your perfect rhythm - sorry, I am a nazi- cadence sonnet-loving bastard!) this is a very cool poem - I love the form, it's one of my favorites to read- thank you for creating this spooky and fiendish feast! It's very cool