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English Sonnet light. With apologies to any major poet who comes to mind. |
| O! To Have Been a Real Poet! Barra de Navidad. January 9, 2007 I wish I were the kind of poet who Has passionate relationships with flowers, Or conjures up, from England's gentle view, Dizzy Alpine chasms, crags like towers; Or one who -- vast technique concealing art -- Weaves rich tapestries, in antique fashion, Showing the inmost chambers of the heart, Tracing the pulsing arteries of passion; Or one who coasts upon his magic name Until his twisted sister goes insane, Then takes the road less travelled, that leads to fame, Trailing clouds of somber, tragic pain; For then, though bowed by alcohol and years, I might be rich . . . with thoughts too deep for tears. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- English Sonnet light. With apologies to any major poet who comes to mind. |