Your words mean more, I know the score
You spoke to me of love and trust,
Then took my heart and made it burst
It hurt me so, It hurt me so

Now can you talk to me of love?
We both now know that love will die,
If trust of each is built on lies
I need to know, I need to know

I will await your words in truth
We need to work for better days
In that our love is safe always.
A truth is told, a truth is told

Look it’s my turn to steer this ship.
The rest of you sick bastards line the sides
I don’t want your sick, to rot the timbers.

Who the hell do you think you are then?
The captain of a boat, sorry of a ship?
Where did you get that funny hat from?

Shut up, cant you both feel the love rage
It is ours to share but not to own
I shall love you both no matter what

You are such a stupid idiot
There is only supposed to be us three
Who are all these others?

It has been more than just a while
since last a sonnet left my pen
and though to me they are a trial
I'll grit my teeth and try again

Eight syllables in every line
makes for bit stilted poem----
Dang! That is seven, it's not eight
can make for a bit stilted poem

I meant to make this about love
how it can bloom in any heart
a true gift sent from heaven above
wait.... but that's nine syllables

The world is round
and spinning,
round and round
and tilting
at an awkward angle.

Retching over the side
while watching good mates
take the blue,

a wave comes crashing,
storms start calling,
and then,

the world is flat
and uninspiring;
hot and humid
in the doldrums.

Afternoons
are long and weary
and the night
brings no respite.

Naught is felt
of wind and rain;
this silence will
drive us insane.