This was just a fun little sonnet I wrote using classical rules (a true Italian Sonnet); it’s a response to a nice little love poem written by a blogger I follow. You can find her love poem here: Souldier Girl … Skyscrapers …
Pero yo soy un cinico; me recuerdo a todo y no tengo amor para las amores … yo soy tu abuelo enojado!
(But I’m a cynic … I remember everything, I have no love for lovers … I’m your angry grandfather!)
I’ll also add a cute sonnet by Wordsworth.
Charon esta Preparada …
Flicks of light upon the moonlit ceiling play upon the lover’s head
Swaying canvas, open mouthed gasps, beige and pink and flowing musky air
Rubens brush defined the stroke of breast and beauty bare
Upheaval upon heavy sighs; smoke and wax, the player’s mouth’s are fed
Moist and savory – palette drenched and statues caste with clashing red
Cupid laughs and bares a cheek, his mother Venus smiles a bit, her ginger hair
Runs down her glowing thigh and navel, she feasts upon a pear
Its juices crown, accumulate, between the perfect crevices within her smiles bed
But Venus bores as she’s prone; she leaves the tangled mess as she wipes her chin
A new visage – a flowing beard! – forlorn ribcage and pallid skin betray …
Now Charon’s oar flays the passion from their tepid skin!
The damning turn and ebb and flow; the lover’s cry and sway
Across the river Acheron, Underneath his languished pin
Wax and light and heat renew, down the maelstrom they descend.
-by Michael Todd; April 8, 2015
By Sir Philip Sydney
Who will in fairest book of Nature know
How Virtue may best lodged in Beauty be,
Let him but learn of Love to read in thee,
Stella, those fair lines, which true goodness show.
There shall he find all vices’ overthrow,
Not by rude force, but sweetest sovereignty
Of reason, from whose light those night-birds fly;
That inward sun in thine eyes shineth so.
And not content to be Perfection’s heir
Thyself, dost strive all minds that way to move,
Who mark in thee what is in thee most fair.
So while thy beauty draws the heart to love,
As fast thy Virtue bends that love to good.
“But, ah,” Desire still cries, “give me some food.”