Sonnet XII: (lyrical couplets)

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:

Part XII: (lyrical couplets)

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
Continue reading

Sonnet IV: I Know

My love will come to me from far away
So every minute closer to this day
Will pass me like an hour or a year
But God I count them down from tear to tear

And write my silly words I may not show
Where driven by my faithful car I go
And faster than the wind to him we skim
But God I wish that I could write like him

If you could see the lovely things he writes
Excites and then ignites and then delights
And if you read them then your tears would fall
But God I really get to read them all

I know it as I skim the cytochrome
He came across the stars to bring me home

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


Sonnet: Again

To sit with thee and talk with thee again,
Delight in thy reflections sweetly then,
To kiss thine understanding lips once more…
And every moment’s poetry explore;

To dwell once more and wander so in love,
To hold thy hand and prize all price above,
That sweetest and that wisest I adore…
And stay with mee forever would implore.

O sweetest and my brightest and my dearest
I, would spend one fleeting day a year,
So gladly this but touch thy fingertips…
And will thy hand to mine, that nary slips.

And should I pray that soon will come the day…?
What could eclipse the heaven of thy lips?