Love Sonnet

I know it is wrong of me to think this,

But why are there no other pursuers?

Why is there no one who lusts for your kiss?

Blame the foolish for being wrongdoers.

Absurd how my every thought runs to you,

While others do not even know your name.

I ponder how they could stray from your view,

And gawk at yet another gaudy dame.

A black sheep amongst the many white sheep,

Yet they are ignorant of your rareness.

Blessed I am to have your love to reap

Though how unfair of their unawareness.

Joyous I am to have no foes to fight,

Yet, tis sad your love wasted on this blight.

Edgar Allen Poe tribute in Shakespearean Sonnet Form

*I wrote this for my english class, but they didn't allow me to actually use it. Apparently high school districts are really sensative when it comes to poems talking about wanting to kill people. Oh well, here it is.*

How beautiful you look with red-blushed cheeks.

Yet I can’t help but imagine them pale,

Color escaping once you meet Death’s peaks,

Your body shivering and starts to flail.

The only touch of color left would be,

The sweet intoxicating liquid rose

Dripping as you plead me desperately,

For from thy knife I pierce thee without woes.

Deranged they might call me for wanting thee

Slaughtered by none other than my own hand.

I have not gone mad, I just wish to see

How beautiful you’d look with my death brand.

These desires derived from hate comes naught,
Truly by cupid’s arrow I was shot.