A Sonnet & A Bit More

For a few years I’ve been playing around with poems where the theme is ‘light’. The following piece is one that’s been on the back burner for some time. Last night, while much of England watched a game of rugby on television, is suddenly worked itself up into a sonnet. And then added a bit of something on the end.

I’ve got the feeling there’s a touch of Shelley about it but since I’ve not really read any of his works, I can’t be sure. Perhaps he was also cheesed off by the country’s obsession with sport and paid me a visit.

But then, now I’ve re-read my opus below, perhaps not.

The Palace of Dim Light

Within this crumbling palace of dim light,
No sun-cast shadows break the plangent gloom,
No bright-lit dust motes dance in random flight,
Unseen as draughts sweep through the mighty room.
Grim, rough-hewn columns of enormous girth,
Spring up towards the bleak, bat-ridden vault,
Scarce seen above the floor of beaten earth,
Thrust beams of stone, that light so rarely sought.
But what would turn this edifice so dire,
Once more into a monument of fame?
The fizzing embers of a glowing fire?
A single candle, with a trembling flame?
Would these drive out the all-pervasive dark,
Bequeath the stones the longed-for vital spark?

It is too late
The ground awakes
And with indecent haste
Throws down the walls
Decants the beams
Into the ruptured space
No more a place of dancing dust
No more in need of candle flame
A centre of God-given right
No more the palace of dim light