poet Diane Hine

Diane Hine

Sonnet 2: Mortal (Petrarchan)

The garden state of Eden soon proved stale
to plucky and inquisitive young Eve
So she decided she would rather leave
than have that boring status-quo prevail.
Now ever since we mope, be-moan and rail,
throw up our hands, tear out our hair and grieve
Pray fervently that there may be reprieve
from naughty-Eve inflicted mortal jail.
But may I say a word in her defence-
How could immortal life hold any charm,
when every game we play derives it's sense
from striving 'gainst the impetus of harm.
There could not be a purpose more intense
than racing to elude death's shrill alarm.

Poem Submitted: Monday, February 13, 2012
Poem Edited: Tuesday, February 28, 2012

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Comments about Sonnet 2: Mortal (Petrarchan) by Diane Hine

  • Douglas Scotney (1/2/2018 8:20:00 PM)

    With every game in Eden a microcosm, Eve giving them away to take on death makes her a serious player indeed.

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  • William F DoughertyWilliam F Dougherty (6/2/2012 7:59:00 PM)

    I'm suspicious of any gal who talks to snakes, but I swoon at any gal who talks in sonnets
    Petrarchan form almost perfect.

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  • Adeline FosterAdeline Foster (2/22/2012 4:43:00 PM)

    A good sonnet. Interesting twist on the Eve story. Read mine - Sonnet Beyond Love -
    Adeline

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  • James Mullaney (2/22/2012 4:12:00 AM)

    Keep writing sonnets, Diane. You're good.

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  • Valerie DohrenValerie Dohren (2/15/2012 11:53:00 AM)

    Brilliant, love it - well rhymed.

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  • Niki Nicholas NkunaNiki Nicholas Nkuna (2/14/2012 8:38:00 AM)

    This is a great poem, I feel pity for young Eve. I love it very much.

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