Sonnet 7

The necessity of expression.

I've entreated poetry to away
for its wordsy winds torment my hearts roof
unto the breach, where canonised pains slay
and I hearken for the wet welling hoof.

I would I could not love to write in verse;
my pen spreads the red that it doth beget. 
I'd love the witch that removed curse with curse:
woes plucked by lightening; struck to forget. 

Despite my pleas with future history, 
glad am I no wand hath knighted me dull;
though this sorrow I would never to read,
I do conceive that apathy is hell. 

Feeling satiates ere hollowness stays - 
I'll blow not that, thus: never words away!

Author's Note

Comment if you so desire!

Reviews

[KeeD]

Such an amazing sonnet. I'm reading you after months. You've been missing in action.
This was amazing work. I'll wait months and months on end to read beauty like this.

[Rosa Carlyle-Mitchell]

Wow, thank you for the kind words! Unimaginably appreciated.

[Sami Khalil]

"I would I could not love to write in verse;
my pen spreads the red that it doth beget. "
I like those lines in this nice poem...:)