Hope
Posted on: 5 January 2007
- In: poetry
- 5 Comments
My second attempt at sestina… well they say
practice makes perfect, so bear with me and maybe
in time I shall master it well like the master,
my muse… just don’t hold your breath
*************************************
each night the same, she shuts her eyes and red
she sees, no calm to still her throbbing heart
please heed her prayers and let her sleep
please give her the will to live and hope
through tears she cries, no more, no more
of his unbidden and forbidden touch
she senses his presence, she feels his touch
she smells the sour, sickly, roses red
she hears his taunts as mocking more
and more his fingers tease her aching heart
she fights the fight, gives up no hope
that tonight is the night at last in peace she’ll sleep
she pines for peace, she yearns for sleep
she prays he’ll vanish never to suffer his touch
again; her sole dream an eternal hope
she will bear witness to the scarlet red
of his bleeding heinous heart
thrusting deep her bitter blade more and more and more
she knows her mind plays games and more
for no man lays in her bed at night to sleep
beside her broken battered heart
years have passed since she felt his soft touch
the roses then fresh, sweet, scented red
a future filled with promise, love, hope
young they were, full of dreams and hope
for a lifetime of joy, happiness and more
love’s betrothal pledged by ring of ruby red
and love’s sweet innocence let blessed sleep
of purity and the gentleness of his touch
bound two souls beating as one heart
his slaughter brutal, feral, wild, his heart
ripped out, shattered dreams and all hope
dashed; she never again to know his tender touch
for the devil cast his eye on her, liked what he saw and wanted more
prising her lover from her arms in childlike sleep
never again to kiss his luscious lips of cherry red
worn down, worn out, worn away, her heavy heart can take no more
no happy ending here, all wretched hope of peace and craved for sleep
lost for ever by this demon’s touch, his blood soaked hands of crimson red
copyright 2007 ann raven
5 Responses to "Hope"
2 | Brian
6 January 2007 at 13:07
That’s what I have been telling her Gel. I told her how brilliant this sestina was when she sent it to me.
((((Ann)))
You are a fantastic poet, don’t you stop writing.
Love you.
4 | Anonymous
20 January 2007 at 21:33
What a powerful poem–the first half made me think you were talking about child molestation. I was sexually abused by my father from the time I was 6 til I was 11. At 11 I became strong enough to put a stop to it–but the opening paragraphs threw me back to that time. Thank you for sharing this poem. Walk in Beauty, Laura Cyr
5 | ann
20 January 2007 at 23:20
Laura, thank you for your comment and your honesty. As I wrote it I realised that the beginning could be interpreted that way and for not such dissimilar reasons disturbed me, although the story that came out was actually how I had planned it
at home with ann 
6 January 2007 at 11:05
Dear Ann,
I’m blown away and too sleepy to comment well, but I’ll try. I cannot leave in deafening silence.
Your pain and longing blooms in primal words: a ravished rose, love ripped away too soon. I don’t give high praise often. I’ve read this aloud several times, and although the tempo can lull as they should for the desires and wishes, these words and images accomplish the opposite jarring effect. The different colors for red you used are very effective. scarlett. bleeding, ruby, cherry, and crimson)
This piece deserves an email instead of my bleary-eyed commentary.You are far too modest. Until then (((Ann)))