Sonnet 2: Mortal (Petrarchan) Poem by Diane H

Sonnet 2: Mortal (Petrarchan)

Rating: 5.0

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.

Niki Nicholas Nkuna 14 February 2012

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

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Douglas Scotney 02 January 2018

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 Dougherty 02 June 2012

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 Foster 22 February 2012

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

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James Mullaney 22 February 2012

Keep writing sonnets, Diane. You're good.

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Valerie Dohren 15 February 2012

Brilliant, love it - well rhymed.

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