A little sonnet I mustered up.


Grab the Bull

Infancy speaks the truest words of all
While toddlerism follows with a squeal
With books to weigh us down, we learn to fall
And fire in our eyes, we learn the wheel
The autumn sails on a crooked blade
To then reflect our passions and our dreams
Only to slice the ripening fruit in trade
To tear the heavy books out from their seams
But by the sweat and blood of all your pores
The skills will harvest warmly, and will hone
To hop a fence or lockpick ways through doors;
Land sharply on the bulls and horns alone

Assuming that your body hasn't died
You may just walk away with lovely hide





Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 523 times
Written on 2008-09-23 at 00:16

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WildGoose
i adore sonnets, and i really like what you've created here. thank you for this wonderful write! : )
2008-09-23



I love the title and the rhyme and metre are just perfect, there is a nurser rhyme flow to it and when read out loud, it is teasing and jauntily trips off the tongue. Funnily enough in infancy we speak so little! and the rest of lifes does follow and you are right! The body needs attention in order not to look like it died before you did!lol Mines in tip to top condition!lol just to confirm....lol the hide is maturing beautifully and the in pertfect shape!lol Great sonnet, so tongue in cheekily you.

winking at you

Tai x
2008-09-23