I am writing a long sequence of sonnets that will see publication in 2023. I thought it might be fun to share some of them in advance.
A sonnet is included below, along with an audio recording of me reading it.
Autumn Chill I no longer mind your troubled brow naked like a frosted winter field. I cannot soothe it now. And if I see those hands no longer held as slick ministers of your lies I should remember summer days when there was harvest in our eyes. Neither vanity nor self-praise drives my search for words to use in recompense for what’s no longer mine. I forage without excuse for sanctuary against the blizzard Time, my only comfort when I’m frail and old to stare down the triumph of your bitter cold.
Ian Gouge - Writer 