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              shot with bitter sweet hate
it's lustful arms swing with half-dead momentum
wreaking thoughtful fury over once great lands
        shedding light with meaningless aim
      appreciated by some and seen by none
        the wasted glory, the tarnished soul
  it's thought of, it's dreamed of, it's seldom dull
           listen closely you'll hear its call
            the ticking beast devours all
©2007-2009 ~Hawk-Prince11
:iconhawk-prince11:

Author's Comments

It's been soo long since I've submitted anything, so late last night i decided to write up something random. Well, this is what I came up with. Supposed to be about a clock.
Critique is welcome.

Comments


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:iconvioletscorpio:
That's great, Jess! Liking it. :love:

--
I am beauty~I am strength~I am fire~I am love
:iconsagacious:
Hehe, sweet poem. You're only 14 huh? :)

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:iconblueisyourcolor:
really good choice of words =)

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"A dream itself is but a shadow."
:icondoktoroesperanto:
This isn't really a sonnet. :/
:iconhawk-prince11:
Your right. It's a collection of words that represents my unconscious imagination. I honestly haven't a clue what the hell a sonnet is. :P

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"It is the character of very few men to honor without envy a friend who has prospered"

"Probable impossibilities are to be prefered to improbable possibilities"
:icondoktoroesperanto:
xD A sonnet's a fourteen-line poem written in iambic pentameter. It's like this rigid structure of poetry... pretty cool.
:iconfreexmason:
Fuck the technicalities! These words are sweet...

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August 12, 2007
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