Shall I Compare Thee to a Winter's Day?

Lucía Hernández Rodríguez

I live and rest in sin. Yours took away

my peace, my being. You dare to call it love

yet love shan’t be compared to empty days

nor days not lit by glass, sun-kissed, above.

And Shakespeare proudly melts in summer rains.

Did verse not know I lost myself? Your night

to blame. I, fool, believed him. Coldy veins

by forecast cut -by breeze, might be-. No right.

No right to be in sight of winter tears,

a kiss from autumn does as well, though sour:

its falling, tender leaves revive my fears

of seeking blooms in lifeless, naked hours.

So, am I right, my dear, to yearn for spring,

if, still, I doubt about the coat to bring?

November 2025

Final Bar Line

 

 Lucía Hernández Rodríguez

 

With trust I beat yet beating twice might end

with twice a broken heart yet only once

it dared to scream and shout and shriek, then bend

and play adults in teens when being dunce.

 

Yours dared to praise delusion, sharpest grin,

detached your soul from skin; your kiss, no feel.

Your eyes, so blank that guilt I found within

yet dared to sign eternal-lasting deal.

 

Your clock was ticking quicker; time may flaw.

Forgive me, B, for faith; my hope was shoved.

I want you never meant I want you. Saw

I wrong, as wanting never meant you loved.

 

If only quavers lasted more than both

our nights, I’d lend my strings for plastic oath.

October 2025

 

Sonnet: The last winter night

 

Patricia González Sánchez

November 2024

Sonnet: The last winter night

As snow was falling, cold was winter night

The others’ laughter fill the hearths inside,

And under rays of dimmed enchanted light

The swaying snowy trees move side to side.

The smell of household gathers fills the air,

A feast of well old-aged memorial tales.

And holly chants resound for winter's fair

Undoing all remains of previous haze

As whining whistle wind blows fallen leaves

With crackling fire breaking tranquil rooms.

For when no cause could bring us pain or grieve

Eyes stare up high to gape the bright new moon.

But lost, she drenched in aged and wrenching tears

And laid alone the last of all her years.