Not many people write sonnets any more and even less write them well. At the blog Andy Maudling Writes you will get exactly that, great writing.
Here is a little taste:
We evolve to understand ourselves,
To know we know much less.
Like books, we sit in line on shelves;
Each spine becomes a mess.
We wait our lives to wait in line,
To never meet the end.
We reach a final turn in fine,
Straight lines without a bend.
In line to face to final call,
And I am on the edge.
If looks could kill, I’d kill them all,
From high up on this ledge.
When will it be my turn to speak,
All of the dreams that I do seek.
Do check out the rest of the blog. You wont be disappointed.