Tag Archives: Iambic Pentameter

Sonnet: More Luck

Posted by David Emeron on

Canst not thou fascination herewith see;
With fascination whereunto I saw;
That once herewith so simple, and with awe,
That actually such as this might be?

Art thou, to look upon, as fine as she?
Canst thou, as fine a work of art–or draw
A thing–as this, unveiled, without flaw?
Doth it pale in comparison to thee?

And art thou one, of which were only two?
Or art thou one, if such were only three?
Hast thou, among so many, seen, as  me,
Perfection, took to pen, to sculpt? Or drew,
For, such a thing is finer still; to be
So fine, that redefined a thing, as true.

Permalink

Sonnet XII: (lyrical couplets)

Posted by David Emeron on

If swore I, ne’er describe to thee my heart:
How desperately doth it yearn; and start
To quicken at the moment first I see–
And when I hear a voice and know ’tis thee.

Withheld I, how’t doth race when com’st thou near:
And skip when touch my cheek to quell my fear;
To pound its expectation of thy touch,
Doth fierce thou see my body shake as much;

Withheld how at its quiet pace I’d be
Amazed, as beat our hearts in synchrony,
My wonder as their beat would nary stray;
Thence, locked my parchment, quill, and ink, away.

If swore I, ne’er describe my heart to thee,
Then would it’s beating stopped forever be?

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

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.
Continue reading →

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: