Credit image: Poetryfoundation.org
Now I’m not as good with the sonnet form. But I wrote this one in last year’s Writer’s Digest Poetic Aside Poem-A-Day challenge. And rewrote it again. And again. It’s not close in comparison to the craft I’ve read so far over at Scribophile. Nor hold a candle, hell it can’t even be lit, to the person whom I wrote it for. But still the night cannot end without a poetic dedication. So Happy Birthday, William Shakespeare, my dearest Bard of Avon.
Dearest Bard of Avon
Four and a half centuries spent apart,
across time I’m bounded to your pages
that paints the very essence of your heart,
my love for you shall never be assuaged.
You may think I’m mad but I don’t care.
No matter what, I’ll find my way to you
and toil beside you in that Stratford air,
as you pen plays and sonnets unsubdued.
In time you’ll teach me how to plant my words
and to landscape classics to call my own.
Your craft, I hope to have at least two-thirds
or are my fantasies long been foregone.
If so, I’ll be the fly on your mind’s wall
or would you think I have too much gall?