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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: My Gatedots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: PrettyHeart
    ASL Info:    39
    Elite Ratio:    3.06 - 62/55/53
    Words: 480
    Class/Type: Poetry/Love
    Total Views: 426
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2680



    Description:
        sestina, a French form. I thought I would try m luck at it. It was a hard poem to pull off.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsMy Gatedots
    -------------------------------------------


    My Gate,


    There is this gate it should have been guarded.
    It is not to paradise yet within, there was a garden.
    So it is there the red rose matured with passion.
    Furthermore, the guardian well it was believed to be you.
    It’s been just a few days now; it’s now you know.
    And it is then; it’s just a game that you and me play.

    Someone steals it away; someone steals you away to play.
    Worrying me to death I don’t give into it, I wanted to stay guarded.
    No admitting it to my friends they’d only laugh if they were to know.
    How many times have you whispered, “Do I love you” in my garden?
    I constantly did at dusk, but not a soul in the night knew about you.
    Well, it’s right now you know; it’s throughout, my passion.

    You made known that you seek the truth; I said, “Honesty is all I know”.
    Send no answer back; vast times you haven’t; there’s been no passion.
    Have you ever-said “Do I love you” in the darkness inside my garden?
    Well, I always did; nobody ever knew anything ’bout the way we play.
    Do I love you? Well, I did every time, every night, never guarded.
    I relentlessly did at nightfall, but not a soul in the night knew about you.

    Well, I now remain inside my garden and lock the gate to stay guarded.
    What was my paradise is now dying, it’s wilted rose disgraces this garden?
    In spite of that you have neglected to encourage it with your passion.
    I no longer have a reason to ask if you ever asked, “Do I love you?”
    You have made it known that you seek the truth; I said truth is all I know.
    I now know that honesty is not what you’re wanting when you started to play.


    Always at dusk I asked myself if you loved me; I know it was me that loved you.
    My heart cannot deny it that you never loved me for the rose always did know.
    For it grew there in its delight knowing it was utterly weak, never guarded.
    Well now you know; in spite of everything, it’s far and wide, my passion.
    Even though not a soul stole it away; not a soul stole you away to play.
    How many times have you whispered, “I don’t love you” in my garden?

    It’s not been just a few days now; it’s forever you know.
    There in my garden the red rose grew with passion.
    It’s never been paradise and there is now a dying garden.
    And it is now; it had always been a game that you and me play.
    There is this gate it will now always be guarded.
    Thanks to the guardian well it was believed to be you.




    Submitted on 2007-08-02 09:40:55     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I haven't written a sestina in some time. It is a difficult form! I enjoy reading metaphors, and you've certainly used them in this poem. In my humble opinion, you have met the criteria for circular narrative with variations on the theme. I will offer a grammatical correction: "you and I play" rather than "you and me play." The punctuation is another area to consider, but I'm not the one to offer the best advice in that area. You've certainly put some time and effort into form writing, and I applaud you for taking on the challenge! Enjoyed the read, :-) Sharon
    | Posted on 2007-08-21 00:00:00 | by Peggy Paris | [ Reply to This ]


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