Sonnet 1	Sonnet 4
My poetry is barren of art and it is right of you to see it as imperfect or unworthy as you are one writer who is able to draw sharp, not blurred images, better yet, benefiting past writers. It may also be possible that you see me writing in vain as I write with great dreams all turning out to be some piece of paper but nothing more, Or that what I write will never immortalize me. (as someone seeing my art as barren) You are worth much more respect than they now give you. And as they refuse to see your art, you should reach for the posterity and not let the time stop your writing. Leave not just your image behind but create either writings or paintings and adorn naked minds with your art.	It was a tale and you are free in regarding it as true or as false. No matter how you see it as, it is of great importance for anyone who sees through reading as in Shakespeare's famous line (... learn to read what silent love hath writ ... ). You have a task and this tale tells of it to you. You have a kindred soul to that of the writer's as you are able to write powerful lines in your poetry like "sea: wherein glistening stars swam" and as you are one of the handful people who is into art in your city. And among them you are the luckiest for you have your poetry and painting to eternalize yourself with. In short, you are as a great writer as the writer who could create a diverse collection of colours(emotions a reader feels while reading) using something colourless(ink) for the first time. Unaware of what you are worth, you are claiming time to be an obstacle and going further, say that publishing what you write would be disrespect to the professional writers, which is totally unright. No one else but you prevent yourself from writing, and this means more difficulty for those who think they can find their right paths in life only through reading or dealing with other forms of art. You are, in a sense, not letting people find themselves in your writings. That's just what the time wishes as your egoist foe. As someone who reads a lot, you shall see that every single word you read is challenging you to write again and strengthen the roots of your mind and thoughts. Or they may all collapse leaving you in endless questionings. (* You build your house upon questions, using your answers to those questions as your material and if your building ever collapses, then you again face with the questions you once thought you had found the right answers to.)
Sonnet 2	Sonnet 5
Please be quiet and listen to me. I will tell you the verdict of a court from ages ago and it tells something to every thinking writer or artist. In the beginning there was one writer and he never wrote about the society he belonged to, which really needed being praised once. Instead, he wrote after his lover and only she cried when he died, and wanted his soul to be "raised" from death. A Necromancer heard her crying and held a summit in the middle of their town and it was indeed a court consisting of wise, fair men and some with fear. (* we are talking about raising from death here, you too would probably fear) At the end of that court they had come to a final decision; They would raise him from death only if she accepts to let the writer write about them not about herself. They thought; "otherwise we will not ever be praised and this would mean unequal status for us."	Time knows everything about this universe better than we can ever do and it plays with you as easily as it would play with every other thing. Despite the fact that it's the oldest, it acts like a youngster and neither with a glass, nor with my barren verse can one ever show you its power (youth). It's fed on skill as it not only kills a human but also kills that human's skill, art, power, everything. Using all the endless treasure it has, it never gets old. Besides, for more matter, it rides someone from one emotional state to another to make him/her be indifferent to everything. It does it with such speed that nothing can ever notice it or show the current state on anything. (like a map(* think of an enemy that you cannot locate on any map ! What could you do to defend yourself then ?)) It can play the carrier of new life, or a mother to feed this new growing grow further. Yet it can also play the snow blowing fright into the souls of fresh leaves (which he himself once carried to fertile grounds) or a coldness to freeze every single wrong- doing on this earth. What it will be depends on him but it somewhat depends on you too. Thus; You should either be a friend with this most power- ful force of nature or let him prison you in this earth and have control over you. It's your choice.
Sonnet 3	Sonnet 6
She thought much about their decision, that she would see him but not be seen(written of) by him. Finally, she decided his raise from death to be a gain no matter what the case and shouted back at them "I will forget about him I will give him as much pain as I can to make him forget about me too. I will make what he uses to write (ink) be black and slow him down in loving me gradually which will by time end his love towards me and he will begin hating me then. (Only then can he write about you) What he will write about you will be all about you or your (society's) different parts. I will not let him write during day time and for this one reason he will use his words like swords to swing over me. (but he as you wished will write about you, will praise you. I will bear all this pain but he will write about you !) From the wounds he will have given me, I will be cured by his face (it won't matter how much pain I will give him to make him write about you, not about me). Yet as you are this hungry for being praised, as to make two lovers be two foes whetting blades behind each other, I curse you; he will write black (the colour of night when everything is blurry) and this will make his art worthless and worse than it used to be."	You are meant to create as someone gifted with such talent, therefore you should create many things using this talent(art). Draw pictures for examples (steal momements from time). I have known people who died before writing or drawing as much as wanted to. But this shall not be the case with you, as you are one person who can bear both the business of your life and dealing with art. Or if it won't be drawing what you will do, then you can also try writing every single thing your heart grows. And when you look at something written, especially if it is black, never forget you are meant to create, to make difference and SEE. And never think you will be deceiving yourself with writing or that the black ink will make you lack the life's colours. And as final words, as Words of Advice I say, "You may think but your thoughts deserve to be given care and they (thy fair matters) can be given best care by just moving your pen on a paper. Or if one's thoughts are one's protection, and one's self would make a delicious food for the ever-hungry (time), you should always carry your thoughts with you or time will pare them off your self and your self will be defenseless, in other words; a "please eat me !" message for the time. I do want you to always be there, not be eaten away by Time. I do want this as someone who has been severely injured by Time, as someone having a self begging mend from me. (* a self that has twice lost against the time.)