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All English Sonnets

My wisdom is the keeper of my heart,
And it is good that it should always guard,
This throbbing fistful of my flesh. Regard
It prone to upsetting the applecart,

Get crushed beneath its weighty mass. Smart
And weep and wail despite each subtle nuance,
To sure disaster venerably advance,
This fledgling and dull- witted bleeding heart.

But in its duties, wisdom, the upstart
Should take a little rest and recess,
Acknowledge that heart does play a part,
In all creative moments of this mess.

Which life is. And hence to it impart,
Unguarded moments, indicate largesse.

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