Shakespearean
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Before in the past I never did know If I might possess a graceful beauty.The kind to capture the heart of a beau,I did not think it could be part of me.Never once did I try to bat an eye.To chase after boys seemed a waste of time.To avoid heart br
Don’t be afraid,
Just take my hand.
Come on let’s getaway,
And forever I’ll be your man.
I already know the consequences,
Dear Friend,
I must inform you of an ocurrance most absurd,
a long-running line of separatio has ben blurred.
Preparing pass the church this morn,
the ghostly friar spoke with young Romeo of the Montagues
Raindrops fall quick on the lonely petalsWith the heavens clouded in its dull gloomMeanwhile on the oven, the warm kettlesHelpless to the fearful, coming, dark doomBasking in the colors red and yellow
please listen to the silence of my heart
so you, my love, may be spared from the grief
What doth bring us forth from the womb?
What doth drive us into the great perhaps?
What then to make ourselves a tomb?
On which hour on thy social media, thee wilt findeth a miniature of oneself,
But what lie beneath the mask, the true visage?
If thy mask be uncovered, what wilt thou findeth in thyself?
Death sparks contradictory emotions.
Disappearance from our earth is morbid,
Suffering is also a misfortune,
But what if the afterlife is splendid?
Majestic mountains and breathtaking streams,
Of this perception I am curious;
what motivates the human attitude?
Who is born more or less delirious,
but yet a genius life they should allude.
Their inspiration premeditated
The fiery beast falls, slain by the (k)night,
His flame breath extinguished in the cool air
As darkness engulfs the diminished light
And strips its presence in the clear sky bare.
“Cease Not Believing”
Just a parish lass, livin’ lonely in this world
She flew away by a midnight ride to anywhere.
Just a township lad, born and grown in South Dover
Eyes of an everlasting sea-blue sky,
Greeting my own whenever we two meet
I notice them as life passes me by
Knowing our next union'll be bittersweet
And still those eyes haunt my eternal soul
Thou dreams like no man dreamed before
Looking upon thy heaven's for thou fate
You speak out for me to say more
Before thou sings that one restful note toward heaven's gate
Does it mean to handle a *Bokken?
Or to truly perfect one’s **Kata
Swinging to his heart’s content in joy
Connor Burke is an artist of doubt
Yamashita, master of arts, glows
My chocoholic English teacher lights
Up the classroom. Her witty remarks make
The children giddy. She makes sure we cite
Our work. For projects she won’t let me bake.
