More darkness. Veneta had some very sad events in her life: her mother died when she was three years old, her first love exited leaving her unrequited for decades, and her husband died 17 years before she passed away herself. This poem was written during the unrequited years, and as she noted on her typewritten page, in the style of a Shakespeare sonnet.
by Veneta Donaldson
Tonight the years' hypnotic eyes are bright,
They mesmerize my spirit and my mind;
They will not let me turn toward the light
But torture me with visions of the blind
And crippled hours that haunt my spirit's shore,
Hours nurtured by despair and vain regret
That Fate once barred contentment's golden door
And placed upon my heart eternal debt.
O hours that pass as lightly as a sigh
And leave no trace of triumph or defeat
Where is the Joy the egoists decry?
The ecstasy in which their days are steeped?
The darkened hours that are my legacy
Mordaciously flaunt their supremacy.
The next poem in this series can be found here: They Told Me — .
This is part of a series of poems by Veneta Donaldson. A brief bio and the beginning of the series can be found here: Veneta Donaldson: A Poet in the Family.
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