I don't think I have written a sonnet since high school and I really didn't think I could, but once I started writing, the words were flowing. So here goes:
How a Child Doth Break His Mother’s Heart
Oh how a child doth break his mother’s heart,
I pray if he could only be aware,
That the thoughtless words that flow from thee art,
The cruelest kind that bring pain to bear.
My Mother, says he, of you we have no need,
From love you do not act nor give of self,
But of your judgment you only pay heed;
As over concerned you are with our health.
Lo, we were very well before you came
No better or worse because you are here
My son, your words they sting, Have you no shame?
I bless your children and hold them so dear.
How can I express this heartbreaking pain?
To do so I can predict of no gain.
Tootsie
12th Night
The Whore of Babylon
Does this look like The Catholic Church?
Anne Boleyn, "[A] woman who is the scandal of Christendom." Katharine of Aragon, 1531
Henry and Anne Hunting
Pieta
head full of useless knowledge
an interesting looking courtier
the "look" we're going for
St. Thomas More, martyr
utopia?
2 comments:
I really like your sonnet. Only a mother knows that kind of heartbreak! :o)
Hey, your sonnet has been submitted to the Literary Magazine as Prof. Kilgore talked about in class... if you prefer not to have it published you can e-mail them at uscblitmag@gmail.com!
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