Petrarchan Sonnet


For what were the consequences that you faced

You watched her unsheathe the sword that would bring your death

I never knew it’d be where you’d take your last breath

Your line, your legacy, ripped to pieces, disgraced.

My turn for my own humble refrain, duet

(Your own electric lullaby, you hummed forgoing

The droning that you send through my head, unknowing)

As I croon, to your still sleeping form, my regret

I was the buzz of a sword, you the hand that led-

Led to run from the scene of pure divine righting

Goodbye, my dearest and my only lightning king

He faced his demise, on the cold floor was his head

What I had done was run, a coward, unfighting

And I, of all peasants, you to sweet sleep, shall sing. 

Caryn Ong (Class of 2024)  is a highly unmotivated writer who only picks the poems she’s ashamed of because they’re her best work. She does not like bending to the rules of poetic form unless forced, believing that words should be free.