Sonnet 60 sparked your creativity

We read and analysed William Shakespeare’s Sonnet LX, a sonnet that contains the poet’s warning about the destructive power of time and a meditation on the role of art.  I asked you to write your own poem bearing the issue of time in mind.  You certainly wrote great poems and for this very reason I would appreciate your posting of them, so that whoever visits this creative writing blog may appreciate your talents.  English is not your mother tongue yet you managed to render your thoughts and most of all your feelings in a very powerful way.  Hats off!
 
Sonnet 60 sparked your creativity

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d,
Crooked elipses ’gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
   And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
   Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

 
As you already know, my belief as a teacher is that whatever I ask you to do, I do it myself, so… this is my poem (if I can define it such!)
 Sonnet 60 sparked your creativity
 
Are you my enemy?
Are you the inexorable plough scarring my body,
leaving unbearable marks on my face?
What are you?
Are you the hourglass whose flowing reminds me of the precious role played by its specks of sand?
Are you the mounrnful knell? Tolling for me?  Announcing my death?
Conversely are you the gift of life? You tick the cycle of nature, the birth of new life?
You are the beat of music, the flowing movement of a dancer, the record hit by an athlete, each second of yours is precious. 
Your hands are stretching towards me.
Time, who are you? My foe? My friend?
A canvas, a poem, a sculpture, whatever work of art transfix you and outlive you.
Do they freeze you? Stop you? Are they your enemies?
Yet, if it were not for you Time, I would not have written this!

Sonnet 60 sparked your creativity

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16 risposte a Sonnet 60 sparked your creativity

  1. anonimo scrive:

    Like rain feeds the seed of life
    so does time
    and it tastes great that flavour of youth
    which makes you bloom

    Like rain ruins those petals
    so time gives you the coup de grâce.

    Adua Dalla Costa

  2. anonimo scrive:

    There have been times when I prayed for it.
    I prayed to forget,
    I prayed to stop suffering,
    but there also have been times
    when I paryed to be remembered and to remember.
    So, which one do I hope most for?
    Living day by day, accepting pain and sufferance,
    but also joy and happiness or
    living as if I were not alive, without any memories?
    I do not want to stop crying,
    I do not want to stop despairing
    because if I remember pains
    I remember also love and bliss.
    It would be a perfect term, but it is not real.
    We forget, we forget everything
    and we are forgotten.
    Our mind is not unlimited,
    time passes and memories are replaced by other ones,
    maybe better, maybe worse.
    Despite this, it is worth living:
    even if I do not remember something, 
    I can say that I have lived it.

    Sara Perin

  3. anonimo scrive:

    What is time?
    It's an hourglass in which every single grain of sand falls down
    like every moment of our life, positive or negative.
    Time is growing up
    Time is making mistakes and correcting them
    Time is learning
    Time is changing
    Time is running
    Time is falling and then getting up again
    Time is waiting for…

    Time is for planning, believing, feeling, laughing
    Time is for living day by day without thinking of the last grain of sand.

    Silvia Salvador

  4. anonimo scrive:

    TIME PASSES

    What's time for me?
    Is it a black shade which always runs after me?
    Or only a wise wind which never abandons me?

    Well, now I'm young,
    I can't think it will hurt me,
    it can only help me become
    what destiny wants me to.

    During your teens the wind
    is violent and nobody besides it can win.

    However if I talk about time
    I can't forget death.
    But is it a real end?
    Our personality will survive
    even a hurricane…
    it will last for ever…

    Alice Piccolo

  5. anonimo scrive:

    The hands are thieves of time
    which mercilessly dim the gaze
    and fade memories.
    What you call time captures the beauty of the flame,
    leaving the shadow of dead ash.
    Ineffable time slips through your fingers
    and it disappears like sand in old age.
    Time that like water wets the edges of the soul
    that is resistant to the weather of the years.
    Time, that hand in hand with death,
    laughs the worries of man.

    Time.
    It is only the voice of regret,
    of breaths worn and faded.

  6. anonimo scrive:

    Step by step, time after time,
    life goes on with his black wings
    and this dark cloak carries away everything's mine,
    but we will never know what time brings.

    It brings warm? Illness? Love?
    And when it gives me love it quikly disappears in somebody's breath.

    Alessia Testa

  7. anonimo scrive:

    Why does time scare us so much?
    It isn't something real,
    but there isn't a single person
    who isn't afraid of it.
    It isn't concrete,
    but it is the most precious thing in the whole world;
    because if we could stop it,
    then our life would be eternal.
    Life is just like a book:
    sometimes it can be longer than others,
    but sooner or later you will always come to an end.
    Because time is destructive:
    it gives you life
    and then throws it away.

    Valentina Lupieri

  8. anonimo scrive:

    Gallop gallop gallop my dear
    you dream the horizon far away
    gallop gallop gallop with fear
    night after night day after day.

    won't you stand still, take a breath?
    why do you run so fast, oblivious
    tamed horse, why do you serve death?
    she waits for you in the riotous

    shade, she's faster than everyone
    won't let you reach the long-desired
    star, stop a moment, watch the sun
    come with me, I will be your guide.

    Daughter I can't, Time is my name.
    Gallop gallop, I'm part of the game.

    silvia maglio

  9. anonimo scrive:

    What is the time?
    It is so diffficult to define.
    You just know that passes quckly trought
    and than it smiles politely back at you.
    When you are seventeen you care just about few things,
    when you are fourty you understand the joy of being.
    But what's a date?
    It remembers you of love or hate?
    Whichever feeling will come up to your mind
    just think about a smile to find,
    that will light up a face or two
    forgetting about how old are you.
    Either you are twenty or seventy-eight
    time will rest something you can not define.
    But bear in mind..times yes,passes by,
    but a place in the world for you couldn't ever be denyed.

    Martina Cimmino.

  10. anonimo scrive:

    I'm watching you
    and I don't understand your silence
    I'm watching you
    every time that you don't look at me
    I think you are like the sea
    so large
    but so indifferent.
    I don't talk while you leave
    careless of me, and yourself
    You follow your rhytym and my heart
    knows you are never coming back.
    But I fight because you are the fault and the Master
    of disappearing beauty
    on faces, on smiles, on bodies, on landscapes, that never come back
    like some time ago
    But you are Time
    and I don't have anything to say
    while I'm watching you,
    and sometimes I
    regret you.

  11. anonimo scrive:

    TIME CAN VANISH
     
    Time passes by
    when it sags a granny’s cheeks
    but stops
    in the echo of her melodious voice,
    in the smell of her freshly baked cake,
    in the touch of her hand on the face of a kid.
    Time passes by
    when it makes snowing on the woman’s black hair
    but it stops
    when she dresses up for a party as if she was still sixteen,
    when a man looks at her with wide eyes,
    when she receives a bunch of roses from a mysterious admirer.
    Time passes by
    When it changes the seasons
    But it stops
    With a child standing speechless in the snow,
    with girls chatting cheerfully on the seaside,
    with you waking up in the morning because of a timid spring sun.
    Time passes by when you read a book of History
    but it stops
    if you think that those men and women
    had the same passions,
    the same hopes,
    the same fears
    and the same feelings as yours.
    Time passes by, relentlessly
    every minute, every day, every month, every year of your life,
    but when you visit a new place,
    when you hear continuously the same beautiful song,
    when you cry in terror,
    it flies away for a moment.
    When you stand motionless under the rain,
    you laugh your most natural laughter,
    you work and you’re tired
    it dissolves.
    When you sleep beside your lover,
    when a smile can light up your day,
    when you hold the hand of your child
    it completely disappears.
    Time does exist,
    but it can vanish.
    It is your life,
    it is your time.
    It is up to you.

    Erika Capovilla

  12. anonimo scrive:

    There is not a single poem I do not like.  Tim himself read them and he said you are really good.
    Congratulations.
    Bye for now.
    Your teacher of English,
    Cristiana Ziraldo

  13. anonimo scrive:

     

    Time is a rhyme

    that you can't fight,

    rich and poor at the same time.

    It sets up in type

    all of life.

    It passes and flies away

    and you don't have enough words to say

    how quickly and slowly it stabs you.

    Time is black,white.

    Time is the sun,the sea.

    Time is wind, peace.

    It is seen or unseen,

    you can live or drown,

    you can be tugged or not

    but something i know,

    it doesn't stop.

     

  14. anonimo scrive:

    Time is a rhyme
    that you can't fight,
    rich and poor at the same time.
    It sets up in type
    all of life.
    It passes and flies away
    and you don't have enough words to say
    how quickly and slowly it stabs you.
    Time is black,white.
    Time is the sun,the sea.
    Time is wind, peace.
    It is seen or unseen,
    you can live or drown,
    you can be tugged or not
    but something i know,
    it doesn't stop.
     
    veronica sidoti

  15. anonimo scrive:

    Time
    For me time is past present and future
    it is something that always changes.
    It makes you older, taller, even better
    but somehow it can scare you.
    For me time is important
    because it reminds me of my life.
    It reminds me that I love a boy
    and also that I am young.
    For me time passes too quickly
    and this frightens me sometimes.
    Maybe when I learn to love my life the way it is
    I will not be worried about it anylonger.

    Nicoletta Pagura

  16. anonimo scrive:

    What about you, Time?
    People think you're bad
    but in my opinion they're mad
    because you are a friend of mine.

    Weakness is not your potential,
    your virtue is Force.
    I think you are the course
    to achieve growth,
    experience,
    the pleasure of finding
    wrinkles of old age on her face.

    And even if she's not beautiful any more
    she's wonderful inwardly
    because you, Time,
    enhanced her wisdom.

    Eroina Giada