So these nights we try hard to conquer
the evils that make us go astray;
We worship all deities to prosper,
to live lives with joy, to win each fray.
Were I a bird, would I sure fly that high?
As high as eyes yours can now see, my mate.
And from above would I see this sea’s fate?
That flows illumined by the stars in sky?
Do you think I would find out what is sly
by seeing through the sky, the strange estate?
Or ween do you that I just might predate
With wings that could engulf the worlds too nigh?
English sonnets generally possess an element of love or romance, but as has already been stated, modern sonnets can deal with social issues, politics, nature, and even death of a loved one. Be that as it may, English sonnets are phrased in iambic pentameter, which is a line of verse with five metrical feet, each consisting of one short (or unstressed) syllable followed by one long (or stressed) syllable. The sing-song effect generated by English sonnets is by reason of this very meter.
I do my duties diligently, all of which I come across in this very place,
What I doubly ensure is to try my best in all situations to be kind;
Oh, yeah! I also ask this question today as I only everything embrace:
If nothingness exists, what happens after death, could you find?
World ours Daedalian
makes me bewildered.
‘Who’s the controller?’
stays now unanswered.
I but conjecture.
You look at me with what I call a smirk,
And your thoughts are kept hidden from my soul.
These are the thoughts that deep within just lurk.
Is there a thing that might just make them whole?
Nights narrate what’s new;
The stars twinkle, telling tales
as the Moon shines bright.
Your look lascivious
did shame the dowager;
You’re but a cottager,
one that’s presumptuous.
The worlds fourteen In You Quite Finely Dwell,
Of all the causes You’re the only cause;
Will You what’s true come forward now and tell?
So I may quick unlearn what’s known as false?
The sky crystal clear
shows me a weird world beyond;
Of thieves it’s bereft.