Sonnets

It's all things sonnet at A Wrung Sponge, today's Poetry Friday host.

But, they're not just celebrating sonnets over there, they've been writing them.

And they're not just writing them, they've created a Crown Sonnet, which is seven intricately connected sonnets, tied together by a theme and certain repetitions. So, start with the hostess, and be sure to see the crown jewel, Cutting a Swath, at Liz in Ink.

And, as always, loads of other good poetry links await your visit.

And, my own contribution today is my one of my favorite sonnets, not original, mind you (though I'm quite inspired!) but from the Bard:

Sonnet 73

by William Shakespeare

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.