Oh honey flavored life. Oh sweet joyous life!
Those sad hours which seemed long spent with frigid Rosaline seem like mere minutes to the time I must spend away from from my Goddess. My shrine, my Juliet. T'was a tale of true love not even the greatest poet of our day could record. My soul of lead was taught to burn brighter than the strongest strongest torch by her beauty. My lips turned to those of Villon. Her eyes were ardent stars, shinging brighter than the princes blade at the height of noon. Her hair a cascade of wonderful, that I had ne'er seen 'til this night. Her skin was as smooth as the most perfect marble, but as soft as a summers peach. Her pure and natural beauty cast aside my artificial night towards the horizon. When I am with her her ravishing good looks doff remove the crowds from my sight. Her voice, like the song of a singing bird, doff dispatch their plebeian words. For ours is the language of love.
This language is woven by a a pair of hearts. One virtuous by comparison. Pure and clean. The other; a lovesick heart tormented by sorrow. But then came her touch. It sent a shudder of the coldest joy down thee spine, yet so warm it could curdle the hardest of all mens steel hearts. She hath found the true Romeo, only to wish thee by another name.
Though our night was hardly without hitch. Whilst enchanted by simply even the look of my beloved a stain appeared in our evening. More unclean than even my unworthiest hand. Tybalt. Trying to quench his thirst by draining the river of young love. But not even he was to be given free reign as his uncle (note: soon my father-in-law) halted his procession of tyranny. And what relationship of love is complete without its companion friendship? For whilst I was in possession of Cupid's wings whose drunken voice should call out to take me from my love, but that of Mercutio? And what other task had he used his voice for but to scorn me. 'Humors, madman, passion, lover' are what he believes I have become. And all that be true for me Juliet huh made me love-mad.
But the fool is out of date. For after his abuse what was he to do but paint the image I had kept at my indiscretion for many a night. Rosaline. He needn't have bothered as the hag he described only seemed to make my angel more beautiful. But oh this love is a fickle thing. For one moment she appears to have the endearment of a senile old women the next an insatiable nymph. For after doubts about kissing we took a bound of faith, but more of that later.
After I had taken that wall out of our equation, I began my search for the centre of my world, that constantly moved. My fair Juliet. The most beautiful women under the sun. Then I heard her voice ring out through the evening Italian air. Crystal and diamond. Perfect and pure. Her voice encircled and filled my head, flowed through me and settled the quivering nerve in my stomach.
'Romeo, Romeo..'
My name...
In that single moment we were more successful than Rosaline and I. I am well aware my techniques were never going t match the subtlety like that of Machiavelli but I more than made up for it with passion. With energy. With vigor. And without pride. But as Mercutio heralds love it is a strong thing, tough and rough. To grab it by the horns.
And that is what we have done.
For wedding bells do ring upon the morrow.
wow.
ReplyDeletefantastic ! your use of descriptive words were well chosen, you can almost feel what he is feeling. i think to be honest this is exactly like what Romeo would have written. i think a few spelling mistakes that stuck out but other wise...amazing.
What I admire about your attempt most is the way you endeavour to make it sound like Shakespeare's Romeo as opposed to a modern Romeo equivalent. I think that, at times, this objective hinders the fluidity of the diary format, but it is certainly original and bold and to be applauded. You also effect an overwrought style much like Romeo uses himself, although this is a double-edged sword too because, whilst it brings the writing to life, it also can seem a little too much at times. Aside from some careless Spelling/Punctuation Grammar errors, which are no big deal at this stage, perhaps a little more use of embedded words and phrases from the text itself would have counterbalanced the floridity of your prose, and would also have enabled the explanation and analysis of those quotations too, which is the one thing which is perhaps a little lacking at times. All that said, you should be immensely proud of what is an ambitious and, in many ways, effective attempt at approaching this task with true originality.
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