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Literature Text
What a woeful waste of time she said
As she grimaced at my youthful verse,
Foolish is the work that forgets the purse
For every man ought to earn his bread,
And saying no more she quietly fled
Away from my pen's impalpable curse,
For when my mind in muses did immerse
Alas! I confess she was to me; dead.
While her beauty was still untouched by time,
The years would in time play their timeless part,
And how cruel be I to love her prime
And upon its ruin, listlessly restart,
Instead I dwell upon the ageless rhyme
For this airy heart belongs to the art.
As she grimaced at my youthful verse,
Foolish is the work that forgets the purse
For every man ought to earn his bread,
And saying no more she quietly fled
Away from my pen's impalpable curse,
For when my mind in muses did immerse
Alas! I confess she was to me; dead.
While her beauty was still untouched by time,
The years would in time play their timeless part,
And how cruel be I to love her prime
And upon its ruin, listlessly restart,
Instead I dwell upon the ageless rhyme
For this airy heart belongs to the art.
Literature
Everything You Borrowed
On Sunday afternoon,
after exiting the church,
you plucked the sun from the sky
and hid it in your palms
so that when I held your hands
they would no longer be cold.
When Monday night arrived
you snatched every single star
and used my tears to make
a necklace.
Tuesday's empty dawn shone
through the cracks of the door--
you stole the promise of what
could never be
and draped it around my shoulders.
After Wednesday's twilight passed,
you grabbed the clouds
and wove a tapestry of lies
that I hung on the walls
of my prison.
Thursday crept through us
on silent tiptoes,
waiting for us to take notice--
instead, we merely waited
for midnight to
Literature
Midnight Thought Process
Perhaps the trees live so long because they have no idea how long they've been around.
I stood with my wine glass and cigarette staring into the night as I heard the sound of fireworks, I wondered if the giant tree before me knew it was new years. There is nothing different from 11:59 to 12:00 yet we feel like it's a world away, because we judge many things in time, and we keep track of time in years.
I sat hugging a pillow, watching a 4 month old baby sleeping during his dream-feed and I wondered if the baby knew it was a boy. There is nothing different from a boy baby and a girl baby yet we feel like we have to define them because we judg
Literature
Phantoms Of Another Universe
Look.
I'll tell it like it was.
black.
cold.
wretched.
Static clung to the air
like ornaments on a Christmas tree
and we were graced with the odd arced lightning.
Oh, it was cold.
so cold.
I remember not seeing,
my fingers frozen off as
feeling receded from them
like waves on a beach.
how could I even be sure
they were.
still.
there?
the forgotten memory of a sunset
lay imprinted on my brain,
and its absence made the night
emptier than ever.
we waited.
we waited for the moon to rise,
for the clouds to shift,
for the e-lec-tri-ci-ty to stop
(like lost travelers stumbling
in the desert waiting for an
oasis mir
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This is my first Petrarchan sonnet, I hope you like it. Comment and critique 
Comments14
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Overall Vision Originality Technique
ImpactI am not an expert on sonnets so I can only consider my personal enjoyment of the poem than take it from an unbiased perspective.
I loved it. The story was compelling and well described. So often are the themes of love and loss are spelled out so plainly and crudely, it no longer makes an impact. However, this sonnet displays the subtlety of one's feelings instead of the vulgarity of one's words, which is befitting as it is what the narrator of the poem has dedicated his life to- placing his pain and regrets on paper and describing the indescribable held in our hearts.
The sonnet flowed well and each line complimented the next. I love your use of assonance and how it is not limited to one line.
I only scored you down on impact as I have read more powerful pieces but there is not much room for improvement! Impact depends on the personal experiences of your audience so you can't please them all.