since the study of Shakespeare in HS English, I've been enthusiastic about attempting to write in iambic pentameter.... so in honor of the upcoming holiday, here is my attempt at a Sonnet
How oft we speak of love, and say we love,
And live and die with each empassioned glance-
Surrendering our might and mind above
When fiery pulls of longing bid us chance.
And live and die with each empassioned glance-
Surrendering our might and mind above
When fiery pulls of longing bid us chance.
Thus swept away in hopeful revery,
We ache with every breath and youthful sigh;
Expectant of the rapt’rous energy,
And crushed when e’er our singeing crushes die.
We ache with every breath and youthful sigh;
Expectant of the rapt’rous energy,
And crushed when e’er our singeing crushes die.
But is this blind attraction love’s true form?
To rob our peace, mentality at will?
Or is a love of holy kindness born -
Unearthed in routine moments, sane and still.
To rob our peace, mentality at will?
Or is a love of holy kindness born -
Unearthed in routine moments, sane and still.
For wiser is the love that thus appears,
And blossoms ever sweeter through the years.
And blossoms ever sweeter through the years.
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