Demon From The Depths Of Hell – A Sonnet

To a demon risen from the depths of hell
I would like to compare thee
But no words really lend themselves to tell
What you did and how it affected me

How you left me wounded, scarred and branded
Tell how you stole my energy and life
Though you pass as human undetected
You smothered all my passion, strength and drive

You can live freely and never be condemned
Never have to stand accused of abuse
As many monsters you will be forgotten
Whereas I am seen as weird and twisted

As a perpetrator you will remain unknown
Until the day I as a poet become known


I wrote the first version of this sonnet in Swedish as part of an assignment for one of my creative writing classes about a week ago. Then I decided it was worth trying to translate it. The original has a strict rhyme scheme and lines alternating between hendecasyllable and pentameter. The translation however does not, as I decided the content was more important than the form or rhyming. So there are some rhyming lines and some unrhymed. The lines vary between seven and twelve syllables.

Still I’m happy with finally translating a text from one of my classes and proud of this version and its content. Tonight I will read it on Open Link LIVE – November Edition at dVerse.

Image credits:

First image: Photo by Matthew Ball on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

Malleable Strawmen of Gold

We’re all born malleable lumps of clay.
Full of hidden nuggets of unformed gold.
Strawmen built of experience strands of hay.

Able to ourselves shape, reshape and mold.
Rebuild from the ruins, rise from the ashes.
Take trauma and rare origami gems fold.

To withstand tormenting flashbacks flashes.
Find meaning when all seems utterly lost.
Capture fleeting hope that by us dashes.

Change orbit to no longer be star-crossed.
Listen to the voice in our hearts and soul.
Let passion heal, lift our spirits aloft.

Let hurt go, take charge, be in control.
Reassemble the pieces to a new whole.


Written for this week’s Sunday Muse.
Also shared with Writers’ Pantry #74: Words, words, glorious words.

Written in the Terza Rima pattern. Which I tried a few times before.
In Raven Dream Flight, Open, Accept, Surrender and In The Badger Sett.

Ring of Fire – A Sonnet


When dusk comes in the middle of the day
The sun reduced to a pale ring of fire
What were the ancient learned wise ones to say
When scared superstitious people inquire

That their actions attracted the Gods ire
And now they have to pay the bloody price
To avoid consequences most dire
The most precious they must sacrifice

Or the world will turn to cold barren ice
Devoid of all the Sun’s life giving warmth
No longer this Aegean paradise
But eternal night as in the far north

As the sacrifice bled and died they did say
Now the sun will rise again day after day


Written for The Wombwell Rainbow’s Eclipse feature yesterday. 

The first picture is one I took on the reflection in our basic pinhole projector, just two papers, one with a pinhole in it.

Read other poems written for The Wombwell Rainbow here.

Fire That Burns Away All Fears – A Sonnet

Concentrate On Hearing Voices by Kerfe Roig

When the world outside is quiet and calm
The choir of voices singing in my head
Fills my being with the singing of psalms
The echo sounds of dreams I long thought dead

Passions stubborn spirit refuse to shed
Visions burning clear in my thirds eye’s sight
My core even though abuse has me bled

My walls can no longer contain the light

The choice becomes, slowly die or shine bright
Trust there’s life time left for another choice
Spread my battered wings and let dreams take flight
Believe there’s stories to tell with my voice

Let truth be my shield and my words my spear
My pen the fire that burns away all fears


This is my fourth Sonnet in April. And my first ever Spenserian sonnet, which has a linked rhyme scheme of ABAB BCBC CDCD EE. 

I still feel sonnet’s are harder than some other forms, or I’m more intimidated by them. Due to their Shakespearean connection. Meaning I feel like a novice poet like myself has less right to venture into such prominent territory. Such are the silly traps my mind makes for itself. I mean I have no problem venturing into other classical forms.

This is the first time the pentameter felt natural and not overly forced, although keeping all the feets iambic still eludes me. I also had an instructive fun time reading up on the Great Comets of 1811 and 1819. Especially the first of those, that was visible to the naked eye for 260 days must have been a real marvel. Leaving many impressions in culture, for example in William Blake’s miniature painting The Ghost of a Flea (below).

To see all art and read all poems for today go to The Wombwell Rainbow.

Also shared to Open Link Night at dVerse.

The Ghost of a Flea c.1819-20 William Blake 1757-1827 Bequeathed by W. Graham Robertson 1949
Kerfe Roig

A resident of New York City, Kerfe Roig enjoys transforming words and images into something new.  Her poetry and art have been featured online by Right Hand PointingSilver Birch PressYellow Chair ReviewThe song is…Pure HaikuVisual VerseThe Light EkphrasticScribe BaseThe Zen Space, and The Wild Word, and published in Ella@100Incandescent MindPea River JournalFiction International: Fool, Noctua Review, The Raw Art Review, and several Nature Inspired anthologies. Follow her explorations on her blogs,  (which she does with her friend Nina), and, and see more of her work on her website

April Ekphrastic Challenge – GloPoWriMo 2021

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