The sonnet I have composed is about a toxic relationship where the more the lovers try to make things work, the more they destroy one another. It is about realising when to let go and setting yourself free, no matter how much you think you may love someone. I was inspired to write this after delving into Sonnet 146 in class and learning about the relationship between the body and soul which, in some way or another, is reflected in the relationship between the lovers in my sonnet.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

Your voice carried by the wind echoes in my ears

My heart on a hook like a fish t’was caught

Your face born again in the sea of my tears

A love so brutal, even Satan begged for mercy

Our arms were heavy, from catching one another

Both of us were trapped, from thinking we’re not worthy

What is there to do, when you’re broken by your lover?

The language that brushed our lips was sour

To please you was like dancing across the blade of a knife

The King and Queen who couldn’t agree on power

Do not blame me, for even the stars choose death over life

How to forget? There’s no manual, nor instructions

Loving you was the most exquisite form of self-destruction

 

 

This week we delved into the poem “The Passionate Shepherd to His Love” by Christopher Marlowe. Here, the shepherd wishes to woo the nymph by promising her an array of delights. However, the nymph believes the shepherd has a way with words, and that he is unable to fulfil his promises to her. None of the promised delights he mentions are permanent and are all bound to die, fade away or lose their value over time. In my poem “The promise of a simple love”, I highlight the transient nature of the Shepherd’s promises and the reasons why the nymph chose to reject the proposal. She requires a simple love that doesn’t include materialistic goods but rather, prefers the notion of an intense, secure and long-lasting love.

 

The promise of a simple love

 

Oh, daft shepherd the way you choose to twirl your tongue,

To promise me everything but leave me with none.

Do you think of me a dunce, a prat, a fool?

One who dotes on a gown made of the finest wool?

 

I do not care for your gown, your gold, or buds,

Nor do I fancy coral clasps and amber studs.

If you chose to listen and occasionally enquire,

You’d understand my heart and all I desire.

 

I do wish to fall for your ocean eyes,

But how can I dear Shepherd? When all I hear are your woven lies.

I wish I could say yes, take a breath and be brave,

To share a love so intense, we’d take it to the grave.

 

But I yearn for a soul that speaks the same language as mine,

Where I feel at peace and secure as our hands intertwine.

We would share words that have been felt by no one else’s ears,

We would cry, we would laugh, sharing both joyous and pained tears.

 

The riddle of love is a puzzle no one can solve,

Some find it when they’re young, and others when they’re old.

Some search for years but never find the one,

Others fall in love with themselves and find they’re happy with none.

 

Your proposals speak wonders that’ll entrance someone else,

But make me realise dear shepherd, I prefer the company of myself.

I hope one day you find the love you so crave,

A love so intense, it’ll take you both to the grave.