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It's summertime; my heart indeed is sad.
And though the birds do sing now their sweet song,
My heart aches much with pain that is so bad,
And my young mind feels a heat so truly wrong.
I think it's winter; thoughts about it I mean
That have me nervous for my single soul.
I'll not have loving kisses, kisses clean
Or the warm body of a female's role.
So, you can see that every a good man
Not always fair whatever's meant by life.
And to buy pearls or gold, what poor man can?
These facts, my friend, are sharper than a knife.
           Here I shed tears for things that are not mellow.
           And, then, my thoughts to gentle my own sorrow.
This poem belongs to my first book of sonnets, "One Hundred Sonnets, Book One" which I self published with no success. I learn the hard way that self publishing rarely works. Too may crooks .

I wrote this collection of sonnets more than 20 years ago. The book has gone through several revisions since then
Jez Farmer Jan 29
A lady pen wrote of love in meter,
from on the Grecian isle and ancient time.
For womankind, was honey ever sweeter?
She was not condemned, when she made her rhyme
A lyricist words were made for singing,
Plato’s muse she inspires from long ago.
Her name now echoes as a bell ringing
A way of loving she has set aglow.
From that isle, she refined her own beat,
and thus her name remains as poem form.
Given pride too, as we measure the feet,
a genre of art brings critical storm.
No shame now, we will show our love and pride
in the life culture, we choose to reside.

©JG Farmer 2008
Form: English Sonnet
Liam Gwynn Sep 2018
The lonely spire of a tree
Casting a shadow far below
Sprouted from a rocky cliff
Bark ravaged by fire and wind
The Green at war with the Grey  
Branches livid with moss and leaves
The tree is full of life
The birds flutter back and forth
Filling the air with a joyful noise
The shadow it casts is a pleasant release
From the Eyre of the blazing heat
I lay and write all day
Languid and free
Thanks to the trials this Tree faced
Daniel H Shulman Aug 2018
If I loved as much as I were able,
With all my heart, all my soul, all my might,
What love in return would I enable?
Could giving that much love ever feel right?

If I could feel as loved as I desire,
With all of someone’s heart and soul and might,
Could I survive the flames of such a fire,
Sustaining burns of focused blinding light?

What is the limit of a human’s love,
If loved with all their heart and soul and might?
Who could withstand it besides God above?
Love is the sun but we love like moonlight.

To love as much as Heaven might demand,
How much can heart and soul and might withstand?
Derived from an interesting theoretical problem: in Deuteronomy, in the Sh’ma prayer, Israel is commanded to love God “with all your heart, with all your soul and all your might.” Is that because only God can withstand such love, or can a human love another human with that capacity?
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sunprincess Aug 2018
Just so you know, the bottle's label was printed with
"Dallas public water supply"
And since the weather was very hot and humid,
And so I wouldn't be thirsty and dehydrated

I enjoyed every drop of the water from Dallas,
even though it wasn't labeled;
"From the sweetest spring of fairyland,
where Shakespeare penned sonnets"

Wish I could've met Shakespeare and been his friend
And been one of the first to enjoy his plays
D A W N May 2018
my lips were a pen
and so i wrote sonnets
on your paper hands
Ebony Mar 2018
How dare you take my gift and throw it out!
I gave you me and you would look away?
I am the sun and I will blind your doubt,
Now look at me and be blinded my way.

My rage is righteous and so too is love,
Which I just might have had for you in time.
Now you will think of me, looking above,
In parting I will make your mind be mine.

I grant I might have risen soon for you,
But time is measured by my rise and fall.
You leave me so I wake covered in dew,
In time, my warmth ameliorates it all.

     The ages are lit by my incandesce,
     Now in my light however will you rest?
danielle Feb 2018
His love for her's like the touch of Midas
Feelings that really made her feel golden
He gave her what she wanted, what he has
Only to prove his love to the maiden

They lay on the vast expanse of grass aye
Talking 'bout melodies they've listened to
Time never mattered, for them it's a lie
They ne'er chased their moments—they don't have to

Though years of their lives had already passed
They still found on each other's arms their home
He remained to be her love, her Midas
He remained with her even after gloam

Cyclopean stars, European skies
Serves as their children with love in their eyes
chaziyer Oct 2017
In my dream you were a savior,
who conquered the world with words
and sought a painters sky
that didn't belong to envious stars.

In my dream you were the light,
who checked both shoes before stepping in
and smiled fearlessly
at the monsters who dared to fall within.

In my dream you were a musician,
who gave bats gypsy bells
that lulled the moon asleep
and birds sonnets to
keep the sun awake.

In my dream you were the ocean,
whose waves roared in an hourglass
and tilted gems on
melted sheets of sand.

In my dream you were the wind,
who curled itself around me
and whispered stories
beyond the company of grass.

In my dream this was you
who used to check both shoes
(before stepping in).
Older poem about the change in people.
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