My darling, if your balcony is there,
Then let me in; Romeo Day,
His fingers deep into the vine. Hi, there.
To overcome my fishing limits, quakes,
Garden trellis, garden by
Choline, image, disease,
The east of Eden Claire wants. She and I
Consumed fruit instead. For the same
That we've the gate, my fingers had no nails;
I quit claim them. Sunlight hurts my eyes --
I conceive of God, wait on the scales
I couldn't rest on; she remained my pie.
I miss you, park promoted to create
Juliette's; this I can't wait.
2 comments:
Ugh. Based on a crude acrostic I wrote, this poem turned out pretty lousy. Even a lousy sonnet is a sonnet, so here it is. Onward!
Okay, it was so awful that I deleted it, and replaced it with the superior found poetry after translating it through voice-to-text. Here is the original:
My darling, if your balcony is bare,
Then let me in. A Romeo who digs
His fingers deep into the vine, I dare
To overcome my fleshy limits: twigs
And thorns, a garden's trellis guarded by
A holy image - "'Tis the east," he claims,
"The east of Eden, where once she and I
Consumed the fruit and stood before the flames
That wreath the gate. My fingers had no nails;
I couldn't climb them. Sunlight hurt my eyes;
I couldn't see them. God weighed on the scales;
I couldn't trust them. She remained my prize,
My lesser part promoted to create
A thousands Juliets; this I await."
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