Tuesday, April 11, 2017

JH Sayyar's Sonnets

244
To my poor soul, do come now, to console,
You will come when death will take away,
My body lying in grave, a horrible dark hole,
And you will then make my last body survey,
Compare not my lines with the mortal pen,
Future wealth my verse for you free of time,
Claw, higher men know it well but lower men,
I have written in verses yours and mine crimes,
Wisdom in my words as wrinkles on the face,
My will word in word, puzzle common wit,
Shallow wisdom reading it adds wit grace,
Foolish searches surface wisdom lies in pit.

Who surpasses me in verse, time decides it soon,
All will die an earth but my verse are our of ruin