Be conscious of the inner scream,
The little voice you hear.
Listen to the subtle theme,
That’s worried to appear.
Sometimes it’s not the brightest beam,
That should earn the right to steer.
Let go, release, all things extreme,
Their effect is too severe.
Question what at first might seem,
A line of vision clear.
For broken is the cunning scheme,
That shrouds what should be sheer.
. Do not depend upon the light of day,
. As with a fickle friend… it fades away.
© Tim Grace, 2 November 2010
To the reader: We all have niggling doubts, small worries, that attach themselves to passing thoughts. Some doubts, on a hunch, rise to consciousness and become inklings. We worry about doubts but act upon inklings. Inklings deserve attention. In seeking out a solution it’s to inklings, not doubts, that we should look. From an inkling comes the moment of revelation; the hunch was worth pursuing.
To the poet: The rhyming pattern of this sonnet is a simple a-b-a-b; except for the final couplet. To achieve some listening interest, the repetitive pattern at the end of each pair of lines requires an alternative reading rhythm. Conveniently, there’s a contrast of one and two syllabic words that bounce at the beginning and end of most lines. With no words having more than two syllables there’s a short beat that wants to quicken the accent on each doubled-over sound.