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Literature Text
The blank paper lays itself before me,
Begging for colorful words to be written.
People who read my works become smitten,
Many a metaphor and simile,
Dance across the page, and they can't unsee.
Beautiful idioms, sensations,
Quite unlike most thoughtful rumination,
Treasured like the perfectly cut ruby.
Words float off the quickly filling paper,
The author inspired, and evident,
Is his love for the most sacred of work.
In his world, there is no traitor,
Perfection exists, a utopia dreamt,
Sleep takes over, no more the pencil jerks.
Begging for colorful words to be written.
People who read my works become smitten,
Many a metaphor and simile,
Dance across the page, and they can't unsee.
Beautiful idioms, sensations,
Quite unlike most thoughtful rumination,
Treasured like the perfectly cut ruby.
Words float off the quickly filling paper,
The author inspired, and evident,
Is his love for the most sacred of work.
In his world, there is no traitor,
Perfection exists, a utopia dreamt,
Sleep takes over, no more the pencil jerks.
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This is my first attempt at a sonnet. I'm really not sure how I feel about this, and would love to get some feedback! Feel free to comment. I'd really appreciate it!
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Poem © to
Comments6
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nice ^-^