SONNET 234
By JH
Sayyar
Beauty makes you slave, not Muse,
Deceiving every nature gifted wits,
Her goading, two folds, words infuse,
Nothing I see anger on the brows sits
How can I write her cunnings and lies?
You are a liar, her birth major defect,
Carrying years on the head not wise,
From the tongue sweet promises reflect,
Your false promise let me fairly write,
You believe in not me, think me unfair,
Love proves faithless wastes my might,
I always shun from your cunning care,
Let me permit to expose your tongue,
In rimes for future who are still young
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