(sonnet # CCXXXV)
I'm vanquished, vainly. Guess I must forget?
Oh yes indeed, for all says this won't fly.
'Twas but a dream, though I try to deny.
Quite sickened, all in vain I fight. O let
This quickly pass. The fool I've played and met
Afresh defeat. Forgive me, please, as nigh
Demise, let me escape once more, I cry.
Deliver me in mercy from this net.
Regret with hopeless longings vies anew;
As weeds with thorns where roses seemed to grow,
They prick, draw blood and sting, anon pursue
Relentless, dogging me. That sweet scent no
Cajoling can bring forth from these, though dew
Rest poised at dawn. The rose is not. O woe!
27Sep11
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 7th, 2011 10:47
- Comment from author about the poem: Passion having revived from the seeming dead embers, the raging fire had no future but to be quelled, as this ill-fated romance played itself out. This is the 6th in the chance series.
- Category: Love
- Views: 35
Offline)
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