Tempest me darkly with your sultry of lips
then wrap yourself sadly ‘round tremors of me
we tumble to waves with sea-glass and ships
and even beyond the horizon lies sea
with its cradle of arms that lulls us to sleep:
remember that dreams are truthful like charts,
who slowly as kissing let us sail over deeps.
Your eyes are the ocean drenching my heart;
your skin is the breeze, my savior, my breath,
when shadows are pounding the door to my room.
when nothing is sweeter than living with death,
deceitful and kelp-tongued, you are my doom.
But after the storm in the void that you’ve left
the silence is bitter as I rest here bereft.
Tempest by Ivan Aivazovsky
Just a little sonnet written before it’s time for me to go to bed.
—
July 1, 2019
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Lovely sonnet, with double meaning to me as my husband was a sailor. ☺️
powerful and profound!
“the silence is bitter when I rest here bereft.” ..this ending is so epic
I love your sonnet, especially feeling these lines:
“Your eyes are the ocean drenching my heart;
your skin is the breeze, my savior, my breath,
when shadows are pounding the door to my room.”
Just a little sonnet before it’s time for bed, which means you are sleeping as I type this. May you be sleeping in the “sea’s… cradle of arms.”
Poignantly penned, Bjorn.
This is gorgeously rendered, Bjorn! 🙂 I especially love; “Your eyes are the ocean drenching my heart; your skin is the breeze, my savior, my breath.” Woww!! ❤️
The word ‘tempest’ is so evocative, and it makes an excellent verb, Björn. It is also a perfect word to use in a sonnet because of its link to Shakespeare. I love the lines:
‘…wrap yourself sadly ‘round tremors of me
we tumble to waves with sea-glass and ships
and even beyond the horizon lies sea;
with its cradle of arms that lull us to sleep’.
Thank you… it was fun to play with the words… and you know how I love verbs.
But after the storm in the void that you’ve left
the silence is bitter when I rest here bereft.
What a letdown when one comes to terms with the discovery of realization
Hank
A tempest is just another word for storm, and we know the kind of damage they can leave in their wake. Still, there are those souls drawn to storms and they won’t pass up the chance to feel drenched even while gasping for air.
Wowzers! A little sonnet.. this encompasses so much thought and feeling, Bjorn. I feel I have myself been tossed upon that stormy sea.. sighing at the conclusion, but with an ever-troubled heart.
From the beginning to the end I’m swooning.
I love “we tumble to waves with sea-glass and ships”……thanks for your comment on my poem, Bjorn. You have hit the nail on the head….we mourn the small, as the whole system collapses…………..
Nice personification of nature
I love this sensual sonnet. My favorite lines:
your skin is the breeze, my savior, my breath,
when shadows are pounding the door to my room. SIGH…
Interesting use of nouns for verbs. A lot of feeling in this sonnet. Puts me in mind od shakespeare
Ah, I folded into this, sensuosity that speaks to my core, delicious words.
A nice and light sonnet, Bjorn. I was reading while thinking of a note in a decorated and wrapped bottle traveling with the waves and currents.
..
Wow! brilliant poem. I enjoyed reading it. 🙂
dreams are truthful like charts — your skin is the breeze– kelp-tongued… just brilliant images!
I like sonnets. I love yours. “Tempest me darkly”. Found sea glass along the shores of Lake Huron on my birthday.