Below is Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 30.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end

"Why do I love the silence of the moon"

Oh river flowing through the silent night
Murmuring beneath the moon, while we in sleep
Lie careless, thou, unresting, still dost keep
Thy constant course. And in our souls a flight
With more of mystery in its noiseless might
Keeps pace with thine towards a deeper deep.
Dream on, ye dreamers: could ye wake and weep
Ye would not stay nor keep that stream in sight.
Its waves slip from us silently one by one,
Whether we stand and watch them, or forget
In dreamless sleep; still through our soul they run.
Each sighs in passing, "Welcome,--hail,--well met,--
Farewell,--adieu;" a gladness, a regret;
A future, and a past; beginning, done.

I aint a poet, so I will stick to a quote. If i remember its by a famous archeologist

" Love is Love
sex is sex
and in between is all crap"

Originally Posted by Indiana J

I aint a poet, so I will stick to a quote. If i remember its by a famous archeologist

" Love is Love
sex is sex
and in between is all crap"

Umm Indie
This is the sonnet thread...
quotes belong elsewhere.

I'm in need of a sad sad sonnet.

Cheer up Kam. U dont need a sad Sonnet.

Originally Posted by Indiana J

I aint a poet, so I will stick to a quote. If i remember its by a famous archeologist

" Love is Love
sex is sex
and in between is all crap"

Ahhh my thoughts exactly, you and moi seem to think alike..

I like the happy.. Hakuna Matatta.

The image of true love

Peter came back late from college
And was sleeping late on that morning
I was looking at the falling snow
While drinking my hot chocolate
I was seeing Lisa in the shadow
And in the corner of the room
My Dad was reading over and over
A long letter while taking Mom's hand

So I took only for myself
This gentle image in my heart
And I know that from now on
It will always be the image of true love.

I was waiting for my piano lesson
While looking out from the hallway
At Lisa's prints in the white snow
Drawing like a strange divine path.
While Peter finishing his dream
Was pretending a heavy sleep
When Mother, by laying a warm kiss on his forehead,
Was hoping for him to come and eat breakfast.

The time for us to write some few pages
The years went by on the faces and emotions;
One day Dad went on a mission
And to a home we’ll go one day;
Lisa comes sometimes for diner
And Peter stops by when he has the time
Mother calls me and comes to see me
When the silence becomes too heavy in her pure heart.

I always kept for myself
This gentle image of happiness
But today until my end.
It will always torn my heart apart.

Could I outwear my present state of woe
With one brief winter, and indue i' the spring
Hues of fresh youth, and mightily outgrow
The wan dark coil of faded suffering--
Forth in the pride of beauty issuing
A sheeny snake, the light of vernal bowers,
Moving his crest to all sweet plots of flowers
And watered vallies where the young birds sing;
Could I thus hope my lost delights renewing,
I straightly would commend the tears to creep
From my charged lids; but inwardly I weep:
Some vital heat as yet my heart is wooing:
This to itself hath drawn the frozen rain
From my cold eyes and melted it again.

Found at:
http://www.online-literature.com/ten...rly-poems/111/

Oh, Beauty, passing beauty!

Oh, Beauty, passing beauty! sweetest Sweet!
How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs?
I only ask to sit beside thy feet.
Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes,
Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold
My arms about thee--scarcely dare to speak.
And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,
As with one kiss to touch thy blessed cheek.
Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control
Within the thrilling brain could keep afloat
The subtle spirit. Even while I spoke,
The bare word KISS hath made my inner soul
To tremble like a lutestring, ere the note
Hath melted in the silence that it broke.


Found at:
http://www.online-literature.com/ten...rly-poems/124/

And from the same page as the previous post:

But were I loved, as I desire to be,
What is there in the great sphere of the earth,
And range of evil between death and birth,
That I should fear--if I were loved by thee?
All the inner, all the outer world of pain
Clear Love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine,
As I have heard that, somewhere in the main,
Fresh water-springs come up through bitter brine.
'Twere joy, not fear, clasped hand in hand with thee,
To wait for death--mute--careless of all ills,
Apart upon a mountain, though the surge
Of some new deluge from a thousand hills
Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge
Below us, as far on as eye could see.