by Jones Verse.

I’ve been studying this guy’s poetry lately and this sonnet here put anything I’ve ever written to shame. I’m not coming down too hard on myself. I am a dang good poet. I am better than 99% of the world population. I have a lot to be proud of, but it’s also clear that there’s another level I can reach. Thank you Jones for illustrating that so succinctly. And Shakespearean sonnets to model mine after that aren’t some pervert creeping on a boy? Bang-a-rang.

The bush that has most briars and bitter fruit,
Wait till the frost has turned its green leaves red,
Its sweetened berries will thy palate suit,
And thou may’st find e’en there a homely bread.
Upon the hills of Salem scattered wide,
Their yellow blossoms gain the eye in Spring;
And straggling e’en upon the turnpike’s side,
Their ripened branches to your hand they bring,
I’ve plucked them oft in boyhood’s early hour,
That then I gave such name, and thought it true;
But now I know that other fruit as sour
Grows on what now thou callest Me and You;
Yet, wilt thou wait the autumn that I see,
Will sweeter taste than these red berries be.

Want to know something I found curious? In Verse’s day Shakespeare was spelled ‘Shakspeare’. Now you probably know I don’t believe William Shakespeare wrote all that literature but it’s a little curious a guys name got changed in such a way, no? I mean generally even when we take surnames from other languages we keep the spelling intact as long as it’s a Latin alphabet.