Now where are you at? Where have you gone to?
Now that I’ve need and I’m on the move,
Searching the city streets for a way to prove,
That I’m actually alive and as real as you.
But you know I’ve a thing (among other things)
For all the wayward waifs and straggling strays,
With all their tender brokenhearted ways,
It makes my blood surge and my soul to sing.
If I was to ever find you, run you to ground,
I would whisper in your ear a different story
In a new language, where out is in, up down,
And the darkest hour illuminates with glory,
Never again need we be lost and lonely,
If you promise that it’s all for my eyes only.
This is lovely. A sort of wistfulness, slightly melancholy but not overdramatic. Way to conquer the sonnet.
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Thank you. I have been meaning to write a sonnet since I started my neo-formalism phase. Hopefully it works.
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As evocative and lovely as any “sonetto” could be. A necessary inclusion in formalist poetry. Wistful yes and so beautiful. Well done Mr. Cake.
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Thank you Miss Heart. Yes I had to do a sonnet really. I aimed for wistful and beautiful so hopefully job is a good one.
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Better than a good one, a perfect form and beautiful verse.
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Thank you, you are really too kind.
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A pleasure to read!
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Sad little piece, mingled with the tiniest amount of hope
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Thank you Sue. See I am not all doom and gloom, though I do rather enjoy all that.
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I know that, haha
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