Tag Archives: Art

Part XII: (lyrical couplets)

Posted by David Emeron on

This, the most familiar form of rhyme
Is used in song and verse time after time

This the sixth edition came about
The gateway to familiarise throughout
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Sonnet XI: (Shakespearean blankverse)

Posted by David Emeron on

If swore I, ne’er  describe to thee my heart:
How desperately doth it yearn for thee;
To quicken at a very sight of thee,
And every instant when I hear thy voice;

Withheld I, how’t doth race when com’st thou near:
How might it skip when dost thou touch my cheek;
To pound its expectation of thy touch;
That mayst, thou see, so fierce,  my body shake;

Kept secret I, its quiet morning pace:
Amazed, as beat our hearts in synchrony,
My wonder as they nary would diverge;
Thence, locked my parchment, quill, and ink, away;

If swore I, ne’er describe to thee my heart;
Would thence unheard,  its beat forev’r be still?

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

Part 11: (Shakespearean blankverse)

Posted by David Emeron on

Divinely “stepping rhythm:” blankverse–thou,
Most courtly poetess, to me once wrote–
To promenade as flawlessly anon.
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Sonnet X: (blankverse)

Posted by David Emeron on

If swore I: never to describe my heart;
How desperately yearns it so for you;
How quickens it at every sight of you,
At every instant when I hear your voice;

Withheld I: how it races when you near;
How might it skip whene’er you’ve touched my cheek;
To pound its expectation of your touch;
And hard enough, you see my body shake;

Kept secret I: its quiet morning pace;
Amazed, as beat our hearts in synchrony;
My wonder as they long would not diverge;
Then, locked my paper, pen, and ink, away;

If swore I: never to describe my heart;
Unheard, would then its beat forever still?

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

Sonnet IX: (decasyllabic line rebalanced)

Posted by David Emeron on

If I swore never to describe my heart;
How it yearns so desperately for you;
How it quickens at every sight of you,
Every instant when I first hear your voice;

Withheld how it races when you come near;
That it skips whenever you have touched me;
Pounds with the expectation of your touch;
Beats hard enough, you see my body shake;

Kept secret its quiet morning rhythm;
Long amazed our hearts beat in synchrony;
Wondering how long they would not diverge;
Locked away my pen, and ink, and paper.

If I swore never to describe my heart,
Unheard, would it stop beating forever?

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all: