Sonnet 4


Sonnet 4

My undeniable narcosis, You,
the subtle scratch I long so much to itch,
the root cause of my deep psychosis, who
are You to use Your wiles, me to bewitch
with promises You care not to uphold,
my fickle mistress with Your words so sweet,
and yet these honeyed words oft leave me cold,
But then there are those times when You’re aflame,
The scales fall from my eyes as in a dream,
That thing which stifles me is overcame
And Beauty tumbles from me in a stream,
Until my dying day I’ll be Your thrall,
My Mother Tongue to You I give my all.


Sonnet by Martin G. King
Image of The OED


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s