GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twenty-seven

Today we rewrite the bard, with a twist.

And when you're older, darling
And wrinkled like an unironed shirt
Those guys who stare at you now
Will seem to matter not at all.
And if they ask why you are ugly now
And why have you not taken care to age well,
Then say, from within the depth of your soul,
That the fools have shamed us, now folly wins
And the ephemeral beauty of a firework
Lasts longer than the beauty of the fool
And his child will know naught beyond the excuse
And will inherit the earth by folly laid bare.
     If only we knew then what we know today
     How different might our actions be today.

(c) 2ndwitch, 27/04/19

("When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed of small worth held:
Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;
To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
     This were to be new made when thou art old,
     And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold."
Shakespeare Sonnet II )

GloPoWriMo2019 Day Twenty-five

Today we season with a sonnet.

When first I hear the cuckoo call in spring
I look toward the beech tree grand and tall.
I smell the raindrop's song, and hear it sing
Of dying days of winter that recall

The crisp and frozen crust on fallen snow
That hides the saddest mark of season's end,
And then I turn my face to winds that blow
The taste of hope that memory will mend.

For as I watch the new leaf dimpled sky
And catch the wee birds' chatter in the trees,
And see the soaring hawk that hovers near,
Then think I of foolishness, asking why
The greed of some can bring us to our knees -
But only future's promise do I fear.

(c) 2ndwitch, 25/04/19