Crescent of a quarter-moon on her cheek,
Hung around orbiting her tender eyes
Where the soft blue light comes down like a sheet
Settling my iris where shadow lies.
The curling silk ribbons of her black hair
Passed over by monarch a butterfly
Like a flow'r garden of the midnight air
Floating gently with the clouds in the sky.
And her frigid breath of frail wind whisper,
Just now falling upon my frozen lips
Under the night covered by smooth skin bare,
Coming across my face like an eclipse
From the faint glow of a tinted moon,
Whereby two pupils dilate loft leer lune.
YOU ARE READING
Sonnets
PoetryThese are some sonnets that I've written. Some are English (Shakespearean Sonnets), some are Italian Sonnets, and some are modified. They all have 14 lines, ten syllables in each line and hopefully a near iambic pentameter.
