Disclaimer –
Derek's work has been registered at the U.S. Library of Congress, so it would be a terrible financial idea to plagiarize or use any of the material found on this website for your own purposes. Nevertheless, enjoy the writing!Sonnet 48,315
2006
For me to speak of Love - the merest whim!
'Tis preposterity beyond all scope!
To posit as I do, to flam and flim,
Betrays my hunger to abandon hope.
Damn heart, confound thee! Crush thee twonce to stone,
Else shield in stone thy fragile, futile skin,
For that which Love destroys is but a bone,
Where that which Lack denies - a skeleton.
A hammer strikes a string for ear to hear;
A painter's stroke exists but for his muse.
What audience have I to commandeer?
My music holds not note, my brush no hues.
Of Love I know: it leaves a heart defaced,
Whilst absence makes possessing one a waste.
For me to speak of Love - the merest whim!
'Tis preposterity beyond all scope!
To posit as I do, to flam and flim,
Betrays my hunger to abandon hope.
Damn heart, confound thee! Crush thee twonce to stone,
Else shield in stone thy fragile, futile skin,
For that which Love destroys is but a bone,
Where that which Lack denies - a skeleton.
A hammer strikes a string for ear to hear;
A painter's stroke exists but for his muse.
What audience have I to commandeer?
My music holds not note, my brush no hues.
Of Love I know: it leaves a heart defaced,
Whilst absence makes possessing one a waste.