Thursday, June 15, 2017

JH Sayyar's Sonnets

121
Do not follow love that leads to fall,
Woman’s love is full of weal and woe,
It reminds of your pretty teenage brawl,
My love gets nothing in love but rue.
Till death my ghost will follow you,
You will have never peace in your life,
You will miss my sweet bill and coo,
Your pretty like will be full of strife.
I take back your beauty thrice I curse,
My words full of magic have effects,
I hate you more but love in my verse,
Your trend a guilty conscious reflects.

You nothing but my love makes you great,
A pretty whore’s love none can subjugate.