Zebediah

Here lies the preacher Zebediah Grey:
A pillar, incorruptible, severe;
Who suffered not the children at their play

Nor tidings but humility and fear.
“Tempt not,” said he, “the wrath of righteous love—
The love that strips the unrepentant bare.
Lure not that retribution from above;
Skull the Purple BlockPrint (Block Print)Look on God’s works, ye blithesome, and despair:
How fleeting be your joys, how little worth!”
The congregation trembled at his scowl
And with him daily praised this hell on earth;
But friend if only you could see him now
····Whose sneering adumbrated mankind’s sins
····If only you could see him— How he grins!

Zebediah
November 16 2014 • by me, Patrick Gillespie

  • As promised, a sonnet — Shakespearean. I can’t bring myself to write any other kind. This isn’t at all the way I started, but once the idea got under my skin, I had to. I wrote most of this yesterday, on the drive home, sparked by the bleak landscape of November’s first snow. Readers familiar with Shelley’s Ozymandias will pick up on a good many echoes.

5 responses

    • Writing them is how I learned to write poetry. I’ve never really liked the Petrarchan or Miltonic Sonnets, not being as suited to my personality. I’ve always loved the argumentation and the final sting of the Shakespearean sonnet. This one really twists the knife at the end — good and hard.

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