lithedark

Sing a simple sonnet, tell a shaking tale,
Don’t stop keeping on it, life grows deathly pale.

Beauty isn’t hard to see, if one knows where to look.
That’s the part that frightens me, the pages in this book.

The heavens sing forever, so listen to their song,
As passions must endeavor, but also grow so strong.

Turn around and take a glance, but not so long to miss your chance.

Always the couplets, whether aabb or abab. Thanks for reading.

There once was a man with no shame.
His parents received all the blame.
They coddled their son;
‘Twas all in good fun,
And now he just chases the dames.

Could be better. Thanks for reading.

And so the sun does yield to stars, bowing to their gleam.
Bringing forth the blinking points, sparkles in the sky.
Quenching rays from near to far, tearing sunlight’s silver screen.
Binding heavens at their joints, rainsbows in your eyes.

Pinkish clusters paint the sky and tell a simple tale.
Solemn streaks of lurid blue dart across the page.
Speech begins to grow too slow and turn a deathly pale.
Glaring stars make empty threats by twisting fists in rage.

Sinking quick and shows no slowing, sunlight seeps away.
Hopeful glimmers start to shimmer, mapping out the sky.
Stars dart up and all around by coming out to play.
Darkness swallows life below and clouds begin to cry.

Dawn and dusk dance on and off, giving us no warning.
Revel in these glory days, there’s no time for mourning.

Wow, this is surely a turning point; my format remains somewhat undeveloped, but the subject matter is surely more interesting. Thanks for reading.