I had to write a shakespearean sonnet for one of my upper-level english classes in college...which one of the 2 that i wrote do you think I should hand in? Constructive criticism would be nice too =]
1) Storms
When the slate grey skies mourn our missing sun;
when pine tree spines sway with the world’s strong sighs;
and when fearless ships shy from fierce oceans,
we stay tangled in sheets and deny time,
ignore wet leaf tornados through windows,
imagine the world is only this cluttered room.
These storms scare me and you are my poncho –
cover me now with words to shield the gloom.
I trust your sad smile, your gentle kisses
that rain down my bare, innocent shoulders,
though I shouldn’t after last night’s curses;
the welt on my face should make me colder.
I’d leave but your hard eyes cause me wonder:
should I go, I’d fear more than Nature’s thunder.
2) Escape
You don’t know what it is to be tired.
Do you feel the world’s push against your back,
The burn of thick ropes at your neck like fire:
constant reminders of all that you lack?
The warden knocks hard knuckles at my door,
begs me to be more than I want to be,
digs his fingers into my flesh and roars,
but in my ears, his words are empty.
I want to drive on the highway until
the road runs out and my chains are broken.
I dream of wings and wheels and free will,
of escape from this white-walled prison.
The warden tucks me safely in at night.
How can I run from those who gave me life?
1) Storms
When the slate grey skies mourn our missing sun;
when pine tree spines sway with the world’s strong sighs;
and when fearless ships shy from fierce oceans,
we stay tangled in sheets and deny time,
ignore wet leaf tornados through windows,
imagine the world is only this cluttered room.
These storms scare me and you are my poncho –
cover me now with words to shield the gloom.
I trust your sad smile, your gentle kisses
that rain down my bare, innocent shoulders,
though I shouldn’t after last night’s curses;
the welt on my face should make me colder.
I’d leave but your hard eyes cause me wonder:
should I go, I’d fear more than Nature’s thunder.
2) Escape
You don’t know what it is to be tired.
Do you feel the world’s push against your back,
The burn of thick ropes at your neck like fire:
constant reminders of all that you lack?
The warden knocks hard knuckles at my door,
begs me to be more than I want to be,
digs his fingers into my flesh and roars,
but in my ears, his words are empty.
I want to drive on the highway until
the road runs out and my chains are broken.
I dream of wings and wheels and free will,
of escape from this white-walled prison.
The warden tucks me safely in at night.
How can I run from those who gave me life?