Critique These: My Sonnets

MY SONNETS


SHAME ON THE STARS
I once beheld the sky one starry night
And saw the stars continuous as the sky,
For most, or all of them did came to sight
And so adorned with lights the space up high

In spite of this the earth was clad in gloom,
Likle as the inside of a coastal cave
Then curious thoughts arose in me like plume.
And made me from myself the reason crave.

I then discerned the moon did not emerge
But couldn't the stars coalesce and light the earth
Despite that they abound in space at large?
So useless they're we ne'er perceive their dearth!

The moon alone on what's a starless night,
Shames a zillion stars on a moonless night.


CONSCIENCE
My fleeing self, conscience apprehended
And then gripped my mind like as a sword's hilt
With pictures I'm shown, I'm being reminded
By him of all I'd done of acts of guilt.

I escaped the men of truncheons and guns
And shamed the probing tentacles of law.
But this unseen cop caught me on the run
And melancholy, I'm being fed with, raw.

His captive I'll remain till my last day
For none but death could help rid him of me.
E'en though Heaven had forgiven me, nay!
This cop won't  leave, but wait, my end to see.

A cop more effective there had ne'er been
Than this one, wielding no weapon, unseen.


TO MY LOVE
Oh! How shall I describe our first meeting?
It was like that between death and a soul.
Then came thy love to my heart (then waiting)
Naturally as leaves to a tree's bole.

My heart and thine are now but Siamese twins
And our love keeps waxing like the new moon.
Stuck to thee my mind hath always been since
I ne'er thought love could come my way so soon.

Please let us water our love, oh my love
For it is still but a tender seedling,
Which if nurtured becomes that none can move
But if not, dies of lack after wilting.

May this wax stronger till our hairs go grey
And so last as long as our lives, I pray.


STIFF-NECKED FOOLS
Many could enter man's oral or'fice:
From birds and beasts, his source of milk and meat,
To verdant plants, his fruits and herbs sources.
But some chose none save clouds of smoke to eat.

They'd turned their lungs to bio-chimney pots
And stick to th' act like paper does to glue.
And when urged to stop blackening their own guts,
They stiffen their necks in pride like turkeys do.

Know them not that they, by their own hands are
Gradually multiplying the number
Of holes punched in that standing barrier
Shielding them from death, (who's ever in hunger)?

Reflect now and love thy life more dearly
For thou art digging thy grave so early.

Critique my sonnets is what I say. I didn't open this thread for all these trash you people are talking!