Sonnets


 

 
 
My Father

thanks to my friends at PIP, who helped me to get my English and the meter right



Through mist I see a flair of burning red,
when I look up, there is a fading moon.
Reminds me of my Father - who is dead,
I know the sun will follow very soon.

He was a man of nature and so pure,
in showing feelings he was rather weak,
But his unspoken love, I felt for sure,
a man who needed so few words to speak.

He was an artist and his world was paint,
he taught me well, in how to spread my wings.
He was my Father, but he was no saint,
he saw the beauty in the little things.

Sweet memories are coming to my mind,
such memories are never hard to find.


 


 

 

 

 
 
Will you remember me

thanks thanks to my friend Munda, who helped me with this one



Will you remember me when I am old,
remember all the things I've ever done
and tell to all, the stories you've been told,
the stories of my life, wich have long gone.

Because they're valuable to some, I'm sure,
the life I lived, I did not live in vain.
Go tell them, how I loved my roses pure
in early mist, with little drops of rain.

And when I'm gone, don't grieve too much my dear,
for I was happy in so many ways.
Please keep the humor, that I loved to hear,
because with humor, also laughter stays.

Although my life has reached September's dawn,
I won't be old, until December's gone.


 


 

 

 

 
 
I'l try one more



I'll try one more before this month will end,
to see if I will get it right this time.
I always struggle, for my lines will bend,
while I am pondering about good rhyme.

I have to think about the meter flow.
It rhymes a - b - a - b, c - d - c - d,
e - f - e - f, two g's at end of row.
I'm going mad, I think, so pity me.

And that's not all, you have to think of theme
It has to be a problem of some kind
It is so bad it even roams my dream
I have to find solutions in my mind

I'm nearly finished, just one line to write
I hope my theme, my rhyme, my flow is tight


 

My friend 'Balladeer' who is a crack in Sonnets himself, replied to this submission:
"They flow as tight as an archer's bowstrings, Titia! This is wonderful...not one syllable out of place, the meter is perfection, and I cannot find the smallest thing wrong to say about it...very loud applause here!!!"
I am one proud woman, I finally did one on my own.


 

 

 

 
 
Am I such a fool?



It sure seems the days go faster each year.
or is it that I slow down in my mind.
Time's gone and it won't come back so I hear,
no person who sells me time will I find.

Am I such a fool for wanting so much?
Some people don't know what to do at all.
It sure has nothing to do being Dutch,
with all my 'doings' I just have a ball

A waste of time all that sleeping through night,
my body however will disagree.
My mind and body are always in fight,
some days I'll win, but she often beats me.

So I am struggling with time through the day,
deviding the time in my selfish way.


 


 

 
 
Worldwide 2001 by Titia Geertman


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