Sonnet XX (or so)
What murmur, what soft swollen song has comeOn floated censures of fresh fragrant air?
Who's spectral hand thus guides my mind to some
Light garden's path of sights and scents so fair?
Low whisper'd words move blithe amidst my mind,
With each the heady tickle of blood wrought
Back slow to limbs unused, is such I find;
With each the pang of mislaid life is brought.
"Come Love," she sings, and steady warmth doth fill
My soul, expounded by my shallow breath
As I anticipate her gentle will,
And shed that webbed shroud 'twas wrapp'd in death.
Oh sing, sweet muse, for thou were sorely miss'd,
And fill these hands, this soul, this mind thou kiss'd.
11 Comments:
Goddamn, I am one talented son of a bitch.
I really haven't felt this good in years. I really do miss the feeling of elation when it comes to creating. Composing puts me in touch with a deeper consciousness, a wider sense of being, and fills me with such a sense of completion! I really am fantastic :)
And thank you for helping me realize what I was missing, Sonja.
oh you're welcome monsieur ;)
one question though. when you write "...for thou were't sorely missed" shouldn't that be "...for thou were sorely missed"?
...Errr.... maybe :P
On second thought, I like it better the other way....
but then it doesn't make sense.
it's not "weren't". It's just a harder "were". :)
no it's not. a 't suggests other letters are being excluded :P not a "hard" were.
Hey, if I can invent "reune", I can add "'t". Read it out loud, it just sounds better.
Ok, you're right.
of course.
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