A Collection: Sonnets From The Portuguese: E. B. Browning

[rayheinrich]

reformatted

You are a prince, nay, my sovereign.

I have a leather-bound copy of Sonnets from the Portuguese that I found in a little second hand bookshop for $1.50.  I don't know whether the owner had no idea what it was, or whether he did know and thought it would be better off his shelves and in a good home.

Aside from the fact that she was in love with a really creepy dude and it took her until she was 40 to get up the guts to run away from her father (probably why she fell in love with a really creepy dude in the first place), EBB's stuff is pretty damned romantic.

Mine's a ragged paper-back with a broken spine; it cost me $4.00... there is no justice.

Since my poems, in some sense, are all love poems; I've often fantasized they could be sonnets.
I should have learned to write the damn things years ago when my brain was more easily formed.
Sigh. For me, writing a good sonnet is like learning to play the piano. There's always that decision:
Do you want to write your fucking love poem now, or do you want to take five years to learn to
write it as a sonnet? I keep putting it off.

Besides, I have these to listen to.