If love is action, I am but a bland
and apathetic testament to hate;
I lie before I ever take a stand,
and plan to die before I procreate.
If love is patience, I will win the day,
for time is on the side of those who wait
in silent expectation of the stray
and misdirected arrows of their fate.
If love is made of mutual desire,
I lust for her who shares my ardent thirst
to claim my fill of romance, and retire
to years no longer by this question cursed–
alone together, basking in her glow,
with only our contentedness to show.
–G.B., stationary minstrel
This type of poetry is an english sonnet because it has a specific rhyme and unexpected twist.
www.sonnetwriters.com
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