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Poetry Corner 09-04-11

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Study for a Love Sonnet

Bards sing of tresses gold as sol’s noonday
Or locks as onyx-black as midnight’s sea
Or waves that flow as red as setting day
Thy hair of brown that you call dirt suits me.

Bards sing of orbs as green as emerald’s glow
Or brilliant blue with heaven’s deepest shine
Or golden brown as fur upon a doe
Thine eyes of black that you call pitch are fine.

The head of Barbie thinks no more than stone
Thy mind teems with many an author’s art
Thy wit a knife held at the keenest hone
Thy tongue a spear that strikes right to the heart.

O take their goddess, O take their Barbie;
I’m not them, I love thy humanity.

­— Cary Bronson