POETRY

If Death Be My Lover

A Sonnet

Upon these boughs which shake against the cold Rests this my life where thy revolt doth lie This love to be new made when thou art old Though I, once gone, to all the world must die Despite of wrinkles this my golden time In things right true my heart and eyes have erred Since, spite of him, I’ll live in this poor rhyme And to this false plague are they now transferr’d Prison my heart in thy steel bosom’s ward And ev’ry humour hath his adjunct pleasure Whoe’er keeps me, let my heart be his guard Doubts of advanced age won’t steal his treasure And often is his grey complexion dimm’d By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d

©2021 Lori Carlson. All Rights Reserved.

It has been nearly a decade since I last wrote a Shakespearean sonnet. I struggled with this for nearly two days and I’m not even sure I got the iambic pentameter correct. If anyone out here in Mediumland is a sonnet expert, could you please measure my beats. Thank you!

Poetic response for Diana C.’s Spooktober Week#1 prompt — Tuesday: If death was my lover…

Lori Carlson writes Poetry, Fiction, Articles, Creative Non-Fiction and Personal Essays. Most of her topics are centered around Relationships, Spirituality, Life Lessons, Mental Health, Nature, Loss, Death, and the LGBTQ+ community. Check out her personal Medium blog here.