What beauty can I speak ofthat has not been said in the past?You are a dovethat should be in another caste.You are the envy of many womenwith your blue eyes and blonde hair.You are the “gold” for all menbecause you should be royalty or an heir.Being your enemy would be foolish of any manI would never be that stupidI much rather be your supermanif only I am lucky enough to receive an arrow from cupid. Through my darkest times you were there for me. Your love is all I yearn to be.You are as beautiful as a sunrise,or a flower in bloom. And you are so wise,you brighten up any room.I yearn to be your superman though I know the chances are slim.I will fight any manthough chances of that are dim.I wish that I could show you how much to me you mean.You are the apple of my eye.I wish that could be seen.I never want to say goodbye. You deserve all that you desire And I will do all that you require.
Shall I compare thee to a noble man,Thou have thy love that the sunshine portraysAnd in thy heart, there is no banNever a lie, a judgment, nor a strayAnd as the heart cannot foretell,I wait for thee to come aboutA noble man must give his sellOf the words that the Gods heard Venus shoutTo have thou love would be most dearFor I have never had true loveAnd it’s thou kindness I most fear,It is a sign from up aboveBut thou aren't real and not for IAnd in the grave alone I shall die.
Shall I compare thee to a fall breeze?Thou are far more relieving from the summer air.Moves are as swift as the leaves falling from trees. And fall’s time leaves with a careSometime’s to short the leaves with beautyBut thy warm color in loves eyesGives thy heart a call of duty.With the enlivening breeze leaves of loves beauty fly Sometimes to rainy the leaves wash awayBut thy love shall not leave with the rainAs October ends I will stayBecause your gentle cool breeze will always remain So long as falls leaves fall or seasons change So long live this, that whatever happens will rearrange
Sonnet 130 ½ My poet’s rhythm is of great despair, With lines, verse and even prose of great force,Any merit of his words would be rare.I ow’st mine eyes and ears deep remorseIf his ink nev’r tire, nor run dry,If his paper dost not cease to exist,Our readers’ glow dost rest and we sigh.To commit to his sonnet, we resist.I flee from his face as he is writing,Although his tongue paints iambs with delightI grab his pen and commence the fighting.He baits me to persuade me with his might. But, my heart is with joy and must acceptSo our love is pleasing and well kept.
When nature sets forth to defile the land,Upon thy blessed sea she crawls controlled,Whereupon nature possesses thought;And darkens the whitest roses sought.But nature’s personality changeth,And life springeth with a gentle hue,Desiring lilies perfume amazeth:And haply man’s heart aspires anew.Then like the consumed hatred within;From the depth of his breast is o’er,Like to the sweet birds silently sing,When time matters not, memories soar.Thus, mak’st nature a monument,So to stop thyself from being spent.Molly Bennett
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Sahara IncarnateThy lover is like the Sahara incarnate.His skin as warm as the mid day sun,Questioning, he stares at me with eyes of garnet.For how I long for him when the day is done.I would caress his face, prickly as a cactus,His fingers runneth through my hair, a snake in the sand;Primal instincts are what doth attract us.Donned with a chest of sand dunes, he is grand.My love is all seeing, his eyes are blind.Blinded by the darkness of the sweet sinful Eve,Adam’s lingering love is much more kind.With love unable to triumph, I take my leave.I rue the day my lover leftWhom my heart he did theft.Phil Hughes
My lovers skin is nothing like silk,Instead is tough like mine heart.His taste does not resemble sweet milk,But thy heart does break if we shall part.If hair be weeds then he grows weeds on his limbs;I have seen him distorted and mangled,But thy lust radiates, I’d do anything on a whim.The charcoal and onyx in his eyes are tangled.His sweet voice echoes in sky high ceilings,Like a sweet sounding melody.Begins a journey of forever secured feelings;I grant I never felt such a feeling of serenity. I love to watch my dear love gleam, I swear this fashion will forever beam.
Thou, fair youth, art thy splendor in thy script;Be it not said: whose love shan’t fill mine eye,Thou love shan’t wane the darkest lady crypt,Whose glistening gems for death shan’t thy cry.Shall I utter coils that kiss thy cheek,Thine crimson hue of lost Virgil prudent?Arms of marble enrapture the labor’s week,And thy hue of hues befall love’s student.But thy miniatures within play be told,Which illustrate as thine tips parted mine,And thy rival’s bleak art thy void page fold,As fair as youth shall be given from Time.For as long as love scribe words on its leaf,Thy human folio shall hold thy grief.