Sonnet 4

bleeding-rose-on-a-book

Do drink the cup of my bitterest rhymes.
Indulge your sense with their stale sweetly tastes.
Abhor the verse befouled the well of times:
Poisoned pungency of nascent distaste.
I shall perspire the cadence of your breath,
As staled venom cascades adulterous tears,
Besmirched the waters of bequeathing death:
An interlude to lines for advent years.
The times to come shall toll a funeral gay,
So filled with praise for the poet divine,
Whose anguished pains forebode a dreaded day
Where love’s a memory filled with hearts malign.
From greatest pains my lines of hate do reek.
From blood of shredded hopes my books do leak.
Other Sonnets:
Sonnet 1          Sonnet 2          Sonnet 3          Sonnet 4
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4 thoughts on “Sonnet 4

  1. Pingback: Sonnet 3: To My Sickly Heart | theRibz* by Ribal Haj

  2. Pingback: Sonnet 2 | theRibz* by Ribal Haj

  3. Pingback: Sonnet 1 | theRibz* by Ribal Haj

  4. Pingback: Sonnet 5 | theRibz* by Ribal Haj

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