A Sonnet. (Ryden Mederos)

The following poem is a sonnet I wrote in 9th grade. I remember taking great pride in this piece at the time, as it had been my first attempt at a Shakespearian sonnet, yet I never ended up posting it anywhere or sharing it to anyone (of course, besides with Mrs Brennan). We were given a prompt simply about love, and as the single 14 year old I was, I didn't seem to connect personally to the idea of love. To the feeling of love. Rather, I viewed it, and possibly still do, as a concept. Love is not reserved to romantic affairs, of course, but that was the focal point of my writing. I attempted to explain the common perception of love versus the non-stereotypical point of view. But, alas, this proved difficult. I don't believe even the greatest writer could summarize love in a perfect manner through a brief work of poetry, but that does not matter. A part of me believes that to be representative of an extremely prevalent portion of love- it is not easy to understand or express always. Through action rather than words, love is best expressed. Even then, people wonder what actions show love and affection towards others. Should you be reserved and private, or open and proud? Regardless of the difference of opinion, I found this poem to be one I still find to be true to how I feel, and decided to share it here. Enjoy!

-Ryden.

Romance is a rather cliche matter.

There is simply never enough to say.

Not enough to give; we resort to attar.

Many cannot display passion today.

Crude paradigms often cause horrid regrets.

Upfront approaches are apace; forward.

Passion is bound to roses and secrets.

Soft kisses and boats travelling shoreward.

Romance is a rather confined matter.

There is simply too much we cannot say.

Too much to give, too much chitter chatter.

Many won’t dare display passion today.

Love is not just what we are told it is.

Love is just what we choose to make of it.