Afrikaans Shakespeare

Mistress

My lover’s eyes are nothing like the sun,
coral is far more red than her lips’ red.
If snow be white, why then, her breasts be dun.
If hair be wires: black wires grow on her head.

I’ve seen roses damasked, both red and white,
but no such roses see I in her cheeks.
In certain perfumes is there more delight,

that in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
that angels have a far more pleasing sound.
I grant, I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I find my love as fair,
as any she belied with false compare.

-Shakespeare, telling the truth about his lover.

Muse
I can’t do sonnets,
I’ve mentioned before.
My words are too full of life to be kept
locked up like that.
I would not want to set false expectations for them,
or people,
and by that,
I mean her,
my Muse who has quite recently had to choose between what is right and what feels so.
Manipulated by Machiavellian men
who lie
about me
to her.
I cannot compete.
I am honest and caring and head over heels,
and she cares for what I do,
which is nice.
The thought of her makes me wake up with a smile,
and I would so have enjoyed
staying with her
until I was no longer needed
which was shorter than I hoped.
She has such a beautiful outlook on life
and sees things naively,
and the good in people
which is bad
for me.
There are far better men out there than I could ever hope to be,
but I want her,
and I would have thunk see feels the same.
But alas:
I am a mere pawn.

-Charlton, 11 May 2019

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Posted on 11 Mei 2019, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Lewer kommentaar.

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