2/154

Hello everyone! I’m spending the day writing, but I wanted to take a moment to get the second sonnet posted. I hope you all enjoy it!

When the time comes and the days grow colder,
And there’s only our thoughts to ease us at night,
Will we be at peace when we are older,
And be able to say we cast a light?

Yesterday parted without a goodbye,
Tomorrow comes upon us suddenly,
Today will be nothing but a long sigh,
Unless we can mark each minute greatly.

When we become frail and our thoughts go dull,
With nothing ahead and sorrow behind,
Can we say that the days were great and full,
Or just mem’ries taking up space in mind?

We must do our best to love much and care,
Before we are nothing, faded and bare.

1/154

Hey guys, hope you’re all doing well! I don’t have a lot going on so we’re just going to jump in! The first sonnet is done and I’m really excited to share it with all of you! It’s been a while since I’ve done any creative writing but I’m really happy with how it turned out!

The selfish woes of the unspoken mind,
That cast a shadow down unto the heart,
With nothing more than silent cries to find,
Never to be heard, nor seeking to part.

The words that once were spoken lay weary,
The eyes that once shined grew dull and hollow,
Warmth’s embrace now nothing but a mem’ry,
There’s not much left except to just let go.

With all that strewn out before us in life,
The passing days and weeks that we once craved,
Think if things were diff’rent I’d be a wife,
Instead, I sit with pain that is not saved.

All while wanting to just move on and feel,
But left with nothing as so much to steal.

I stuck to the rules of 10 syllables per line, 14 lines, and the rhyming scheme. It took me about 4 hours between writing and rewriting but I think I did well! Let me know what you guys think, and here’s to the next 153!

Looking Back

While I was sitting here trying to figure out what to write about, I went back to my poetry blog, Writing In the Street. I read a few of my pieces out loud before returning to the dilemma of figuring out what to write. That’s when a certain someone suggested that I write about my old work.

I started writing poetry and short stories when I was 14 years old, and I never stopped. I used to hate writing, truly hate it. Then, I met my 9th grade English teacher, Mr. Z. Not only was he passionate about English and teaching, he instilled his passion into me. He’s the reason I started writing, and I can never thank him enough.

I stopped writing for a while; I became extremely critical of and discouraged by my work, but that’s all changed. I got my inspiration back, and found a new muse. I’m really happy that I’m getting back into writing, especially with them by my side.