A sonnet I wrote for the Valentine's Day Writing Contest.
Dedicated to a special someone. So as the sun gives way, the time grows nigh; The stars align; a path to meet again. Our foreseen love so first do we deny; Know naught but peace till days of Twelve and Ten. A jar of glass; a world where thoughts collide, Two minds connect - sheer truth, God's Providence. Beats strong my heart, with you I do reside, For leaves due fall to honour our commence. Twas in your kiss your love for me you tell; Swept in your arms with warmth do we caress. Make we not first to speak our last farewell, With heav'n to look upon, and us to bless. In thanks, with which we send towards the stars, Hold dear the memories of this love marked: ours. Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
For some reason I can't explain I don't quite know How to say How I feel Those three words Are said too much They're not enough. underneath the starry sky of the forlorn night a single lonesome wanderer journeys on trekking, encompassed with a cloak of blue in search for his true love seeking to find this love hidden deep within in good time a deleterious and intricate thing it be, time its occurrence shifting from day to night acquainted with the clock ticking within the wanderer journeys on surviving solely on the thought of love he meanders into the blue once in a moon of blue appearing as the interlude of time the sky uncloaks herself - his one true love a failure to recognize this union of the night the wanderer continues to journey on seeking to find this love hidden deep within the outcry of his feelings within are nothing but coloured blue the gleam of the sun has gone on a once upon a time for journeying on, he will, through the night until he finds that love where the Northern Star points: love telling him to evolve the language within and speak to the night ridding him of feelings of blue stars fall, a race against time the wanderer must cease to journey on with such ignorance, sorrow will carry on unless he locates that love before the termination of time obliged to search within to extract the blue born amidst the forlorn night journeyed on; failed to search within for love, his heart transmuted to a midnight blue time stops; heart swallowed by the night I wish to write a poem
But I don't have a rhyme. Not the faintest idea I have To dwell on in this time. The drama class I came from, My mind dumped on the page. Not the faintest idea I have To put up on the stage. My stomach hurts. This means I'm stressed. About what, I do not know. I look out the window and one thing's for sure: There's just too much snow! Oh lookie here, I've got a poem Although it's not too great. The first of its kind, it is, so... I guess I shall not hate. ( In the storm she felt whole. With the rain she became one. Under the umbrella a safe house to her misery no more she poured her heart. ) The pitter-patt of the rain beats in time to the thick timbre of the thunder as it echoes endlessly miles and miles. Overhead the maestro lifts his wand; the leaden clouds motif and the drone of the rainstick prolonged. Drops of diamonds from the celestial skies of Heaven briskly dance the dance of a pluviophile. ( Rain like traces of tears
soundlessly seep into the earth unnoticed. In the storm she felt whole. With the rain she became one. ) ~ c. L'amour prend patience,
(we who wait endlessly for "the one") L'amour rend service. (we who take our gifts and give) Il ne jalouse pas, (they who are thankful and blessed) Il ne se vante pas. Il ne s'enfle pas d'orgueil. (they who humble themselves) Il ne fait rien de malhonnête, (they who tell the truth) Il ne cherche pas son intérêt, (they who are selfless) Il ne s'emporte pas. Il n'entretient pas de rancune. (they who forgive and forget) Il ne se réjouit pas de ce qui est mal. (they who show compassion) Mais il trouve sa joie dans ce qui est vrai. Il excuse tout, Il fait confiance en tout. (we who take a strong stance) Il espère tout, Il endure tout. (we who pray for the betterment of the world) L'amour ne disparaît jamais. (Together, we will show the world what love is) -- 1 Corinthians 13 : 4-8 Wherever you go I will follow. Whatever you do I will provide. Whenever beasts of the wild, savage and fierce, terrorize the dignity within, stand firm. Through the rising of the sun, a ball of gold valiantly against the dark, march confidently and surely, head held high and make known you are royalty. Through the rising of the moon, an orb of silver bringing out the stars, march with stamina and pride, wisdom and strength, only do not let anger win. As with a herd of elephants connected, a lone is a lonely. As with a herd of elephants compassionate, lingering about I will wait. Wherever you go I will follow. Whatever you do I will provide. Whenever loneliness on moonless nights, a velvet cloak of misery, arise, little by little will I carry in your stead. So you say that wishes, they really do come true?
I'm not so sure; wishes are not miracles, wishes are not found in stars that shine profoundly in the dark of the night sky; that light up the city so bright are just stars. When one wishes upon a star by their windows at night...who are they really talking to? Nobody but themselves. Wishes are not meant to be wished upon but to help people figure out what their hearts truly desire. Then if they are genuine and want to fulfill those wishes of theirs, they will take action. That is what W.I.S.H.E.S. are for. Way deep down in the depths of my heart, despair is kept in an antique bottle.
Residing within this cracked old bottle are tiny but prominent fragments, scraps, particles of sentiments. In the bottle they are kept, confined inside the small space, demanding to be let out. There is a lid, however, that clamps them shut. They are waiting for the day when the cap is safely withdrawn or for the bottle to finally explode from the demand to be let free. In this antique, rusting bottle, a set of varying sentiments are kept locked up, when all they live for is to be set free. Cold, Superior, Yearning, Happy, Grateful, Lazy, Possessive, Joy, Bliss, Kind, Blue, Melancholic, Empathetic, Pleasure, Dejected, Empty, Hatred, Ambitious, Sad, Loyal, Irritated, Insecure, Excited, Tired, Proud, Troubled. |
Authori am just an ordinary teenage girl. my name and whereabouts are unimportant. this is my story. all written work is original unless credited. Archives
June 2014
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