Sonnets 129 Novels & Stories

Miranda exclaimed," don't say that. Claudia and I still need you here with us. I don't know what I will do if you too left me." " Oh dear, you should now by now that death will come to us in one way or another, living in denial will not do you any good." " I know dad. I just don't want to think about it." " Ok okay let's go inside now and I must say,I love how you are taking care of mom's roses." Claudia said. " Thank you honey, I remember how Clara used to devoted herself to these flowers. She would always say that if reincarnation was real, then she would want to come back as a red rose."

The poem went this way, Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I did not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uprising rush Oh quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.

The scent of pheromones grew stronger, mixed with a faint metallic sweetness. I turned my head away as my stomach churned violently, and I couldn’t stop myself from throwing up. Vincent rubbed my back sympathetically. "Is it because of the pup? He's really putting you through the wringer!" From the moment Vincent came home, I kept throwing up. When he tried to get close to me, I pushed him away in discomfort. "Please stay away from me. When I smell the scent on you, it makes me vomit even worse." Vincent sniffed his sleeve. "Maybe you don't like the cologne I'm wearing. This is the one you gave me, but if you don't like it, I won't wear it anymore. Is that okay?"

Brianna suddenly remembered poetry she once had read in a book: O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune. So fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I; And I will love thee still, my dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry. Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun; I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o’ life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only love! And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my love,

"You're Mrs. Canfield now. I'm not so petty as to envy a man like him." However, envy was written all over him. The mere thought of her old flame, Anthony, set his nerves on edge. Jessica held out a grape to Simon's lips. "Have a grape, hubby." That simple word, 'hubby', sent a wave of heat through Simon. He looked away, his throat working as he gulped. Jessica could not square the aloof, dignified Prince of Hudson City everyone spoke of with the flustered, crimson-faced Simon before her. "Not hungry? Then I'll just have... oh!"

Take me into your loving arms His body was pressed against mine. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars For some reason, I didn't quite want this moment to end. Place your head on my beating heart I took a risk and placed my head down on his chest. I'm thinking out loud I could hear his heart beating. Maybe we found love right where we are And then the moment ended. The song slowly faded out and into another slow song. This time it was "Let Her Go". We were going to continue slow dancing but we were interrupted.

It reminded them of their resolve; to be together and be independent at last. The alley that the twins took led them to a small plaza where it branched to five red brick paths. On the center of the plaza, there was a fountain on which a disfigured looking statue stood that under the flickering streetlamp, seemed almost threatening. It was vaguely humanoid, covered in moss and had a set of wicked horns and spikes on its back where the water trickled out. It seemed to succeed on unnerving Len. It was just then when Lars sensed a surprised jerk movement from Len. Len had heard something, his eyes widened and dead set on the branching road to their left. The road was left shadowed by willow tree

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; .....

The same evidence produced the same conclusions. "What did you just write," Don said. He did not look up from his journal. He was still writing, his pen moving across the page, but he had felt Ernest's attention and had responded without needing to see Ernest's face. "Nine springs," Ernest said. "Each one has the same spring and a different spring." Don finished the sentence he was writing. He set down his pen. He turned his journal so Ernest could see the page. He had written: The ninth spring is the ninth spring but it is also all nine springs at once. The accumulation does not replace the previous — it contains them.

It wasn't long before she found out that she could read everything despite very slowly. It was a poem, which read as follows: 'It was the Coming of the Midnight Sun, A daughter of the Sacred Wood, Lay in a chamber of the House of the Moon, And thus shall wither like a dying star Til the touch of a virgin at dawn.'