The summer knell – a quiver in the breeze
of meadow bluebells, shadow-fighting dusk,
when slanting rays caress with drowsy bees,
you slowly slip your sense, around the musk
of sleepy fingertips, arouse! awake!
a promise interrupted — whispers almost brusque:
‘We need to talk’, and suddenly you take
a fist of dust you saved to fill our night,
with broken dreams and smell of burning brakes.
I still recall those words, before the fight,
before we lit that pyre underneath
to let the ash and shadows quench our light
So now I gather bluebells for a wreath
recalling sting of sudden words unsheathed.
Bluebells by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema
Linked to Toads’ Tuesday plattform.
April 14, 2015
Björn Rudbergs writings 
This is absolutely perfect! Love the mood created in this poem 😀
The opening lines are simply beautiful..!
Argh, tragedy! I really like your transition: whispers almost brusque:
‘We need to talk’, it made me pause and brace myself… for the smell of burning brakes and the fight and the ash and the wreath. What a tale you have spun in your little sonnet.
An unexpected turn in the otherwise lovely flowing thoughts of a person.
The rose and then the thorn… such beauty and then the hurt. Well done
I began dancing to it and ended with my hands on my head… heartbreaking twist.
Wow. This gave me a chill, a beautiful full telling and a full circle.
This is so powerful on its own and then when one sees the image- pow – doubly so!! I really enjoy the words you choose to use, Bjorn. Unique phrasings.
Sadly it can have moments of regret! One cannot be sure when it culminated in some physicals when shopping around!
Hank
Such a perfect subject for a sonnet – and what better way to appreciate the season of bluebells? – but even the loveliest of moments may be marred by real life stepping in. The burning brakes and dust are in stark contrast to the scent of flowers.
Sounds like a great way to say, “I’m sorry.”
Not good, is it Bjorn? I once had that talk, ‘We need to talk’, which also resulted in months of sour times. But things got better, a lot better, and now I see things became better still. My sixth, depending on how one counts, life began.
..
Wow, this caught me by surprise. I love the twist and the imagery.
You render heart break beautifully.
Some arguments are memorable….but certain words are not forgotten easily.
Your sonnet is incredibly, beautifully sad ~~~
This one dazzles until the heart burns~ You got me with drowsy bees~
Your imagery is dreamlike~
Ha. This should persuade her to come back! k.
this flows stunningly…felt compelled to read it twice, so taken aback by the turn it took. really nicely done.
Beautifully draws us in and then smoothly delivers a shock with the turn in meaning.
As a person who likes to write with a twist, this was nicely done. “sting of sudden words unsheathed.” So much said in so little words in more ways than one.
‘words unsheathed’ – what a fitting metaphor ~
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‘sting of sudden words’ and all you described before, and ‘ I gather bluebells for a wreath’ ~ visual images, create dramatic conflict atmosphere, touching, involve all senses. ~ Art underlines the tension of moment. ~ masterfully written x
Real change of mood there, Bjorn. It becomes quite intense. Well done. 🙂 — Suzanne
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Incredible imagery here. Form and topic, a perfect fit.
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