Post by .:Lion:. on Feb 8, 2011 21:02:20 GMT -5
In my creative writing class, my teacher said that the only reasons to write poetry are "to mourn a death, honor heroes, and pick up chicks." So we were commissioned to write a sonnet with those three themes: love, death, and heroes. Here are two of the three sonnets I wrote. Hope you like them 
The Headstone's Song
Death’s pale shadow lies at the foot of the freshly made grave,
The blank headstone sings his haunting song ever mournfully.
The scavenging crows scream as the living souls that they crave,
They wander closer, lonesome voices singing soulfully.
Procession led by ashen faces, silent as a stone,
The frosted air clings to none, suffering their hearts must know.
Their eyes no longer see her there, for she has long since gone,
The time has passed and flown away, the corpse laid deep in snow.
As Death lingers, the earth falls in fiery darkness deep,
The sharpest of pain is taken away with timid breath.
A wall surrounds her crown’d head, shadows cast upon her sleep.
And with a shriek, there comes that treacherous one, Death.
The frosted air clings not to her, for chill is in her eyes,
And as the voices of ghosts dissolve, the headstone’s song dies.
Our Shore
My dearest home was once beside the sea,
A place overlooking the sun and sky,
There was a place the two of us could be,
And laugh together as birds passed by. 10
As time wore on, our fragile hearts, they tore,
Life pulled us apart, the gap so wide.
But still I remember that long lost shore,
A place we would go to, a place to hide.
I sleep and dream bittersweet dreams of you,
And our long lost home, always far away.
My longing took wing then, and off it flew,
Bringing me back home, forever to stay.
And as I come to watch the whisp’ring sea,
There you are, waiting patiently for me.
Death’s pale shadow lies at the foot of the freshly made grave,
The blank headstone sings his haunting song ever mournfully.
The scavenging crows scream as the living souls that they crave,
They wander closer, lonesome voices singing soulfully.
Procession led by ashen faces, silent as a stone,
The frosted air clings to none, suffering their hearts must know.
Their eyes no longer see her there, for she has long since gone,
The time has passed and flown away, the corpse laid deep in snow.
As Death lingers, the earth falls in fiery darkness deep,
The sharpest of pain is taken away with timid breath.
A wall surrounds her crown’d head, shadows cast upon her sleep.
And with a shriek, there comes that treacherous one, Death.
The frosted air clings not to her, for chill is in her eyes,
And as the voices of ghosts dissolve, the headstone’s song dies.
Our Shore
My dearest home was once beside the sea,
A place overlooking the sun and sky,
There was a place the two of us could be,
And laugh together as birds passed by. 10
As time wore on, our fragile hearts, they tore,
Life pulled us apart, the gap so wide.
But still I remember that long lost shore,
A place we would go to, a place to hide.
I sleep and dream bittersweet dreams of you,
And our long lost home, always far away.
My longing took wing then, and off it flew,
Bringing me back home, forever to stay.
And as I come to watch the whisp’ring sea,
There you are, waiting patiently for me.
