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Sonnet 1

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I'm told that I should start to write a sonnet.
And so, here goes I'm on my way, today.
A sonnet pure their way, I now prepare my say
but first I must attach my little bonnet
and watch the cat pull on the loose cordonnet
and by the way, it is a most grand day.
My heart is beating sweetly as I play.
Such verse requires a sweet drink of dubonnet.

And now my Octet is complete we takes a turn
with emotion and force it comes alive
sonnets written perfectly must hotly burn
explode with passion to make all verses thrive
I fire my love to you dear Bannockburn
for now in Scotland freedom is still alive.

A Mother's Song back to top

As she sings that song, that sweet lullaby
The notes flow like a river from her lips
beneath the dancing stars, high in the sky
rocking to sleep, rested upon her hip
a mother serenades her child to sleep
not even one more sigh, or whine, or cry
safe in a mother's love, no need to weep
Her song fills the room as the night goes by
now time for bed, the song is nearly done
gently she lays her sweet child down
the notes have stopped flowing, sleep has begun
the crescent moon shines like a royal crown
the night is still, they'll sleep for a while
but soon her baby will wake to her smile

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