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
Publish and earn at Triond
More sonnets by this author:
- Sonnet 001 – For the loving and forgiving Father
- Sonnet 002 – Life is precious
- Sonnet 074 – Letting go
- Sonnet 016 – Falling in love
- Sonnet 012 – October
- Sonnet 070 – For the little ones
- Sonnet 006 – An oath of love
- Sonnet 035 - Seasons change
- Sonnet 100 - Death
