Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Sonnet 004

A born master of this craft, I am not,
but a foolish lover of such vile art.
Thus, my soul’s pleasure is what I have sought,
as much torment is endured by my heart.
Oh writing! My long time companion,
my dear friend who has offered me a way.
Still, is there hope for my aspiration?
That soon heart aches will receive its pay?
Oh writing! My soul seeks for affection.
How I pray that one day I may harvest,
your love as I hold on to my question:
Shall I ever become an interest?
Writing – such challenge, not an easy game,
My endearing passion, alas, my pain

(c) Phoenix Montoya @ February 29, 2012

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More sonnets by this author:

  • Sonnet 001For the loving and forgiving Father