Inspiration through the Ages

Sonnet 141

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,

For they in thee a thousand errors note;

But ‘tis my heart that loves what they despise,

Who in despite of view is pleased to dote.

Nor are mine ears with thy tongue’s tune delighted,

Not tender feeling to base touches prone;

Not taste, nor smell desire to be invited

To any sensual feast with thee alone.

But my five wits nor my five senses can

Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,

Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man,

The proud heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be.

Only my plague thus far I count my gain,

That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

10 Things I Hate About You

I hate the way you talk to me

And the way you cut your hair

I hate the way you drive my car

I hate it when you stare

I hate your big dumb combat boots

And the way you read my mind

I hate you so much that it makes me sick

It even makes me rhyme

I hate the way you're always right

I hate it when you lie

I hate it when you make me laugh

Even worse when you make me cry

I hate the way you're not around

And the fact that you didn't call

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

Untitled: A Love Poem

Like a green penny,

It lies rusted in the gutters.

Forgotten, or casually discarded

By the Uncaring

Picked up

It burns like steam;

Invisible, but inflicting

Thorns into fingertips.

Broken in half, possibly

Re-united pieces into whole;

Til broken again

And returned to it’s gutter-home.