Sonnet

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Upon the stage of time, where thoughts take flight,
In sonnet’s form, my verse shall here unfold.
Fourteen lines, in iambic rhythm tight,
A dance of syllables, a poet’s mold.

Three quatrains and a concluding couplet,
In strict iambs, each foot beat with regular pace.
The theme, love, life, loss – all subjects put,
In nature’s beauty, human heart’s embrace.

The octave sets the scene, the problem shows,
Then sextet turns, a resolution hints.
Final couplet ties the threads, bestows
A truth, as stars in heaven, tranquil prints.

So here I pen, beneath the azure sky,
A sonnet’s song, where earth and heavens lie.

Prompt

Negative prompt

Text model: granite3.2

Image model: Ultrium