Spenserian:
Possibilities in Time
We meet where there are dancing daffodils
Many days have flown by since we spoke last
We smile, then make way to a barren hill
Tell me then – what was missed and how yours passed
My own was dreadfully boring and fast
Mornings, evenings, and nights were all alike
Old friend, do not stare in such aghast
Perhaps my life may not seem so dreamlike
But time remains to make a counter-strike
As shown by this late spring hour as we lay
On this hill – you appear so angel-like
With a gaze akin to that one green bay;
It frees me from my self-built metal cage now
So there lies the sight of a golden age.
English/ Shakespearean:
When Lightning Strikes
“But our love is like a storm”, he whispers
With a quiet delight into the night
He sways once, then pictures his fair sisters;
He wonders if he would give them a fright
Arriving on this lonely winter eve
He stands there still, all misty-eyed and smashed
A pause much too long so he seeks reprieve
The bag rustles as he looks for his stash
Thunderous clanks of glass reverberate
Through his skull ‘til his hands find a bottle
Half-full, he says displeased and full of hate,
“It seems as though she seeks a good throttle”.
Lovingly, he pets at her neck, then lays
Waste ‘til it ends in a hair-raising craze
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