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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Or rather not, comparable to the dicing of my wrist
The frost, the mist and t’way my brothers’ corpse lay
t’unwashed hands of a medicine man, the bruises on my fist.
T’marks of two nails hammered unto my palms
the screaming of a mother as her darling lies dead
T’ pieces of body sprayed athwart t’railroad track, legs, arms
By chance, my maiden avoids t’knife, but falls instead
thy eternal misery shall not fade, or your existence wade
T’words you played now murder ones eyes and ears,
Now death shall brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
T’thought of your presence reduces me to nothing with tears
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Or rather not, comparable to the dicing of my wrist
The frost, the mist and t’way my brothers’ corpse lay
t’unwashed hands of a medicine man, the bruises on my fist.
T’marks of two nails hammered unto my palms
the screaming of a mother as her darling lies dead
T’ pieces of body sprayed athwart t’railroad track, legs, arms
By chance, my maiden avoids t’knife, but falls instead
thy eternal misery shall not fade, or your existence wade
T’words you played now murder ones eyes and ears,
Now death shall brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
T’thought of your presence reduces me to nothing with tears
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Merci.
Creative and eccentric
Waheh
Waheh
Another top jim-hat poem.
See what I did there?
See what I did there?
^o)
Interesting, very well written. Not much more I can say, bit strange.
Interesting, very well written. Not much more I can say, bit strange.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Or rather not, comparable to the dicing of my wrist
The frost, the mist and t’way my brothers’ corpse lay
t’unwashed hands of a medicine man, the bruises on my fist.
T’marks of two nails hammered unto my palms
the screaming of a mother as her darling lies dead
T’ pieces of body sprayed athwart t’railroad track, legs, arms
By chance, my maiden avoids t’knife, but falls instead
thy eternal misery shall not fade, or your existence wade
T’words you played now murder ones eyes and ears,
Now death shall brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
T’thought of your presence reduces me to nothing with tears
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Or rather not, comparable to the dicing of my wrist
The frost, the mist and t’way my brothers’ corpse lay
t’unwashed hands of a medicine man, the bruises on my fist.
T’marks of two nails hammered unto my palms
the screaming of a mother as her darling lies dead
T’ pieces of body sprayed athwart t’railroad track, legs, arms
By chance, my maiden avoids t’knife, but falls instead
thy eternal misery shall not fade, or your existence wade
T’words you played now murder ones eyes and ears,
Now death shall brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
T’thought of your presence reduces me to nothing with tears
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?