[Quixim]

I write sonnets in my spare time, usually before and between my classes. They're fun to do, you can vary the rhyme scheme to set them up, and they're long enough to play around with and not so long I run out of stuff to say. Here's a few.

I walk the streets alone in darkness and
In cold. Grim faces twist and scowl at me
While rain-slicked bodies push my helpless frame
Until at length my body's bent and lame.
I know that years ago I was once free.
To bind myself in twisting ropes of sand.
Yet now these granules have been washed away
And unprotected I am shunned by those
Who wreath their bodies in a stronger cloak
Than that which I can make with my own prose.
My empty words I renew every day
Ring echolessly in the pitch-black air
And I know those who hear them can't much care
For hollow words composed of listless smoke.

If you'd please stop I would be much obliged!
I'll occupy your slightest bit of time
By asking you "If love had been so fine
that none would tempt themselves with foreign lusts
Would trust and faithfulness be deified
and count themselves still among endless 'musts',
Or would adultery and cheating be
the lofty goal of all loves true and pure?"
"I think the first mistake you made is your
insistence that the world could be free
from shameful lusts and decadences, when
only dark desires can forge a link
of love, at least that's only what I think."
And on our walk we once again did go.

My suff'ring's only from desire born.
And though I know that this is true
I cannot cease my struggling for the things
That I can only hope will give me new
release from endless want. And so I'm torn-
to risk an anguished suffering that brings
Desire only to a short lived end,
Or have desire never more affect
And cloud my judgement so I can respect
That through my life I will not try to spend
My every waking hour in a vain
Attempt from loss myself to fully guard
And therefore rid myself from suff'ring's pain
But oh dear God some times it is so hard.

When cold wind pushes me with frosty force
Back from its frigid source I feel it tear
the warmth from skin and bone and soon my hair
Will crack and splinter 'till I wrap my coarse
cloak tight around my bent and shiv'ring frame,
And from that icy wind I must protect
The brightly burning embers of love's flame
For if that fire's blown out I can't expect
Another girl to ever light my wick
With fire even fast as bright as that
Which you ahve given me. At any cost
I cannot let that orange blow fall flat
Or be extinguished by another's trick
For when that light is gone I will be lost.


Do you write any structured poems?