'Sonnet I'

My love is fair like fields of flow'rs that bloom,
yet blossom not has she; she is still small.
Her voice and song to no one doth appall,
yet th'some she speaks do people dread with gloom.
She smiles with teeth like shining, twinkling pearls,
yet rare it is at thee her smile to see.
Her hair may rage just like the wanton sea,
yet gentler is her hair than many girls'.
Her eyes may sparkle like the stars at night,
yet are her eyes a shade of sombre brown.
Her beauty may not be of great renown,
yet do I love her fair in all its light.
She is not perfect; perfection is she
who is herself, no other self can be.



?/?/13

Poet's Notes

This was a classroom activity when I was learning what a sonnet was the very first time in Year 10 or 11 (I honestly cannot remember). To prove how difficult writing a sonnet could be, my teacher, Ms Henderson, challenged us to write a sonnet in 10 minutes. Sitting in a group of four, I noticed how one of my friends looked, and I remember thinking to myself: "she deserves a sonnet." So I wrote one for her, on her.

The content of the poem is somewhat similar to Shakespeare's Sonnet CXXX, commenting on how the subject of the poem is not the most beautiful or perfect being on the planet, as opposed to the mainstream idea of a love poem, but in the final couplet stating that she is good nonetheless. This sonnet is not necessarily a love poem, but it does deal with my adoration of her.