This one is actually from my creative writing course- it’s a Shakespearian sonnet- one which I already wrote and read once, but you know, no big deal. I’ll see if I can’t write something better today after Taekwondo. Maybe get some more of And So Space Burns done or something. Anyway, here’s the sonnet!
When Time doth slow to gentle stream inside
Who dares to call the hounds of Death away?
I’ll tell ye this, maiden of fairest pride,
Thy heart shalt not deny them as they bay.
When Death doth come like wolf in darkest snow,
Ye can’t believe thy wounds won’t share in pain,
When at the gate thy face grows sharp ye know—
Thy blood that falls, fair lass, shalt not be vain.
No ye who sway in wind with words not heard,
Not ye who flew on shadow’s deadly steed,
His heart, a stone, shalt tremble not like bird,
But softened stone those hands shalt hold thy lead.
Ye aren’t His prey like those who went before,
When Death doth tread His boots upon thy floor.
This’ll go up in the poetry section too I suppose. I’m going to pretend this somehow makes up for yesterday’s lack of poem or prose post! Then I’ll barricade myself in my room to prevent the angry mob from staking me in the heart and collecting my ashes.
©2012 Sam Oliver