Shake-speares sonnets back in the day...
Oh me! I never knew sich weary hours a sense
Of being half sick owns, whilst naught does avail,
This fevered longing mine as clouds' thin veil
Shows fragile blue skies, and warm notes from hence
Akin to daffodils' gay yellows thence
Abob to vagrant winds, where ne exhale
But haunts like to a ghost in sheer betrayl,
Nor moves the baby leaves hung in suspense.
Pink mists frame naked boughs as buds now tour
Those blackened skeletons of trees I do
'Non cherish in their wanting state, rain fer
All that a moistened kiss mair fit to woo
Than ist Baroque strains I sip coffee's cure
To? Andrew, I swear oh, how I love you.
...miss Andrew. L14: Will didn't?
Ya, moonlight at my feet whileas in pale
Excuse strings whine oer how I slumber thence?
The violin half shrieking, thet eye hence
Just stares down through my window to detail
My auld duvet as if on purpose, frail
White on the side I allus choose, a sense
Of what? 'non waiting in sheer silence, whence
Note how, and switch the radio off to scale.
I'm hungry now tis midnight--is that poor?
Twa sips of coffee, cold and stale ist too?--
Twelve hours 'go when twas fresh---and who cares fer
All that by now? Not me. Let Shakespeare do
Up lines none read cuz oh! we love as twere
His plays. We don't, at that. But ah, who knew?
Lucky the fool,
for he knows the truth,
even when said in jest.
For "there's truth in jest,"
we see in the gestures
of the jovial jester
in his bequest
to tantalizing truth,
his continual conquest.
for he has taught
us, the world,
it's often quite wise
to trust the foolish guys.
This distance between us occupied
minutes and hours multiplied
by walking and running thoughts,
divining the cost of careless loss
roving and darting with such might
not even a rest in dreams of night.
Then a trouble or something tragic
pauses me, and a moment of magic
makes all that distance naught.
I fly to you my love in thought
bound again by strings unclear
I yearn and ache to have you near.
But again the world cries out to me
and again I am gone - in its roiling sea.
Shall I compare thee to a quiet ocean breeze?
Your beauty is past the currents that do simply flow.
Broken minds that stand small on shaking knees,
Hold you closer closer, but still I know.
For darling always I shall think of you,
Morn and fall, every rainy day forever.
Light and every dark whether there are few,
I must always call your name whenever.
Your mischevious smirk and a glowing smile,
You keep my sanity from jumping out the window.
Whilst still holding your own stronghold all the while,
If you leave don’t leave a broken widow.
Whoever ascends the palace of heaven first,
Will leave a broken man or woman’s feet.
A soft shell of former selves who thirst,
For the divine drink of your heart is so sweet.
I love you so, my darling. I always will.
Laying by coffins, who knew heart could be so still.
Shall I compare thee to a summers day?
I think not, for the day's end soon approaches as does Summer's demise.
Shall I compare them to a sparkling diamond?
Again, I think not, for many diamonds are cut apart to gain their beauty.
Shall I compare thee to a crescendo of song, reaching its peak?
Still, I think not, for each and every note may yet still go sour.
While some may profess these things as perfection, you are indeed perfection in my eyes.
Now and forever.
Time has passed—painful, long years—
My words have ceased to flow,
And I am drowned by all these tears,
since you left long ago.
This river—my own torture— flowed passionately in and out.
Rains of my own sentiments poured into a hollow beach.
Helpless cries of restless doubts.
It was you they failed to reach.
Finally, after everything I had seen
—Red skies and starless nights—
I became aware of what it means
Having you once again on my sight.
I found you in the shadows of the moon—the brightest of all stars—
And now that you returned, I can heal the stitching of love’s scars.