Poems/ 47
Mangled Love Poems
i.
How do I love thee; let me count the ways
No need to count that high; a sonnet will be enough verses.
Too many really.
ii.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
She was lovely. Sometimes, even now, there it is:
A moment of loveliness -- the last leaf on the tree.
iii.
Oh, my love is like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June
My love is like the thorn.
My love is like the melody
That's sweetly played in tune.
My love is a ghost whispering to itself.
It is an old feeble-minded man working a jigsaw puzzle.
A single cloud, a smudge of ash, on a blue
indifferent sky.