Quasi-Shakespearean Sonnets

Quasi-Shakespearean Sonnet_1

“The narrowest Path I have followed with You
to find where is the best Place to explore.
The happiest Day which I hoped is due
to my humble Efforts no less no more...”

“The glamorous Battle has an endless Delay.
You need neither Path anymore nor a Flight.
You won’t see here any kind of Decay.
Calm down my Servant, calm down my Knight!”

Oh, Dream! Oh, my steady Temptation in Life!
The Light in the darkness, the Stone of hell –
to have or to be? to possess or to strive?
The Love is a Remedy, Freedom or Spell?

So, how resolve this unsolvable Split?
The Battle with Love is a Gambit a bit…

***

Quasi-Shakespearean Sonnet_2

Forget-me-nots were in your glance.
Perhaps I saw you in a city.
No game, no prize? And no pity!
Cause prudence is not a love-lance.

My conscience is like dirty mirror:
you won’t see yourself inside!
And only I keep in my mind
a legend where you are hero.

But reason tricks (”What kind of mall?”),
my sensor system is on duty:
is anywhere “Sleeping Beauty”,
not-watching-me, may be, at all?

If Memorizing is like torture,
Forgetting is like cruel vulture.

***

Quasi-Shakespearean Sonnet_3



You are untouchable as ghost
And unpredictable as guest.
A secret subject not for boast.
What treasure keeps this empty chest?

A distance free of destination.
A chasm free of rendezvous.
A Dream? A Fantom? A Temptation?
What kind of nature aren’t You?

When miss is missed as fulfilled mission,
an endless searching needs no more.
And only frame I am for vision,
for loving advent open door…

A castle storming with a gale
is hold by me and not for sale.

***

Quasi-Shakespearean Sonnet_4

The Vanity Fair is plenty of feats!
To swindle an arrogant person is tricky!
And then, Google helping, you ‘ll find that in Wiki!
The beast is the best, but the worst has no heats…

The Vanity Fair is plenty of sorrow!
Surviving makes people to be like dissemblers!
And then, sotted conscience looks for honest members!
The feast is to crest, but the cock has no morrow…

The Vanity Fair is plenty of nothing!
What for to attend it, if you are a poet?
Pretend to stay out and try on to sort it!
And you will be free of astonishing mouthing…

The Vanity Fair is (least but not last)
A market of slaves who are captured by Lust…

***

Quasi-Shakespearean Sonnet_5

Wherever Your Prettiness wend Your blessed way,
however Your Happiness spend Your nice day,
whenever Your Wishness command Your Sir Knight,
he fulfils his Destiny with all of his might.

Nobody could stop him, no troubles corrupt
his loyalty which is sincerely apt.
This Union perfectly comes to its goals
because it is grounded on petrous souls.

Wherever you go, whatever you act,
whenever you live, and whoever you meet,
remember that nothing is due to respect
but ardour as mutual cause to submit.

Oh, how could we this ‘entente’ distinguish?
No word they pronounce besides : “As-you-wish!”

***

Quasi-Shakespearean Sonnet_6

The wisdom is not apprehended by reason.
The wisdom is shown by true comparision.
The wisdom is looked for by open heart.
The wisdom is homed by self-humbled smart.

The wisdom is not any thing in the world.
It's not so crafted like necklace from pearl.
It's gifted as child born with hope and pain,
as "forget-me-not" nature-flourished with rain.

The wisdom is hearted, and minded, and souled.
It is never robbed, never bought, never sold.
The wisdom as free as the wind in the sky
is almost invisible 'cause always shy...

Worldwide and nowhere, inside, outside
it dwells – not in corrupted places by Pride.