Done sonneteering…. for now
Love’s midwife left the child rotting within
The tight canals where once homage was paid
To her namesake. She ran away, drowned in
Futility, that colored her a shade
Of brown pronounced so foul that brows would braid
Before their eyes to save the sight from seeing.
So many heard the footsteps that she made
But none saw her figure as she was fleeing.
Inside the book of love, they named her being
A word, pronounced, would sew ear holes shut tight.
Coined by quaint monks who found themselves agreeing
This woman sinned a sin of tender might.
And such is how the story’s now been told.
The rest? A mess no scholar wants to hold.
Sonnet by Sameen
Read 12 times
Written on 2026-09-06 at 18:07
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Lal Dead
Love’s midwife left the child rotting within
The tight canals where once homage was paid
To her namesake. She ran away, drowned in
Futility, that colored her a shade
Of brown pronounced so foul that brows would braid
Before their eyes to save the sight from seeing.
So many heard the footsteps that she made
But none saw her figure as she was fleeing.
Inside the book of love, they named her being
A word, pronounced, would sew ear holes shut tight.
Coined by quaint monks who found themselves agreeing
This woman sinned a sin of tender might.
And such is how the story’s now been told.
The rest? A mess no scholar wants to hold.
Sonnet by Sameen
Read 12 times
Written on 2026-09-06 at 18:07
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
