Two Sonnets

Sonnet 1a.

Best species ever we desire very much to breed,
So real beauty never should demise,
With ageing specimen that always dies indeed,
Perfection outcome provides:
However, filled with passion, drawn to yourself,
Consumed by flame to which you are a reason,
Refusing satisfaction, while many for you fell,
You did it to yourself, made self your own prison:
Your beauty is admired, your excellence is proved,
You are at age that promises good fortune,
Your fine achievements used so only you be moved,
You spill to no avail your juices in self torture:
   How sad it is to see the world deprived
   That charm and brilliancy that once with you arrived.

Sonnet 127a

Black was not considered fine old days,
Or if it were, then it was not called beauty;
Today the black is king and over fairness reigns,
True beauty’s pushed aside as a shoe that served its duty:
With beauty shops and plastic surgeons being at your hand
You’re able beautify most ugliest of faces,
The pure beauty lost its name, its purpose’s being banned,
The ‘real stuff’ goes global, true grace lives in dark places.
I chose my mistress’ eyes to be as black as ocean's deepest hide,
They are more proper to express my grief
Then those, that shine with artificial delight,
Corrupting Nature with a false belief:
   My lover’s eyes mourn to their own disgrace,
   Who ever saw them knows the real beauty’s face.