Once Sonnet Fever takes you to her bed
your every thought becomes expressed in rhyme.
You're in her grasp and cannot break the thread
which binds you to a mellow metered time.
No more the hard insistence of I AM!
No arrogance nor mad machismo roar,
instead the soft persistence of iamb,
like gentle wavelets lapping at the shore.
Surrender then and fall to her embrace,
Relax and let her soothe your fevered brow,
Accept your fate with dignity and grace,
a willing slave bound fast to till her plough.
This gentle mistress lays on you her curse.
You'll nevermore like writing in Free Verse.
Great sonnet Thomas - I 've written a few myself which you may like to investigate - roll over Shakespeare! !
Tom- you filled this sonnet with great flowing lines of ripe imagery. How could anyone not agree? Pardon me, while I wallow through my envy- It was more than good enough
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great verse, thanks