Sonnet 1 — a poem asking for forgiveness
I wrote my first sonnet to my wife Janice on our 7th wedding anniversary. It is in iambic pentameter.
Alas did I neglect you my poor bride?
Made you feel more a mother than my wife.
I would bespeak your faults in haste and pride.
Create dissension, argument and strife.
I criticized your works and censured them.
My hurtful speech poured out like heavy rain.
Should I expect no scourge when I condemn
Provoke your anger, suffering and pain.
Forgive me, I have failed to treasure much.
I promise to adore and cherish you.
I miss your smile, affection, gentle touch.
United let’s resume as one not two.
Compared to other women you outshine.
My Sweetie, you’re my joy and prize divine.
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