Sonnet 2: Mortal (Petrarchan) Poem by Diane H
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.
With every game in Eden a microcosm, Eve giving them away to take on death makes her a serious player indeed.
I'm suspicious of any gal who talks to snakes, but I swoon at any gal who talks in sonnets Petrarchan form almost perfect.
A good sonnet. Interesting twist on the Eve story. Read mine - Sonnet Beyond Love - Adeline
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I would like to translate this poem
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1/25/2023 10:02:37 AM # 1.0.0.1094
This is a great poem, I feel pity for young Eve. I love it very much.