Fourteen Horizontal Stripes

This is not a sonnet. I can tell.
A sonnet’s fourteen lines, and not just two.
Or even three, like this. It’s just as well.
Eleven more would be too hard to do.
I might make it to five, but never six.
Imagine what a nightmare that would be:
Stranded near the halfway point, a fix
I’d not inflict on my worst enemy!
By line nine you’ve invested so much time
It’s hopeless to pretend it’s accidental.
Stripes and whiteface? Face it, you’re a mime.
Stay in the box. The winds out here aren’t gentle.
I couldn’t write a sonnet. Wouldn’t try.
I’m simply not a sonnet-writing guy.

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About Michael

Silliness is good
This entry was posted in poetry, sonnet and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Fourteen Horizontal Stripes

  1. Iris Orpi says:

    Super cool!
    I once saw a performance of a coin magician. He just stood on the stage arguing with himself about which trick he should do. He’d rattle off names of tricks and cite the pros and cons of each. How unsure he was about being able to pull it off or whether the audience would be impressed. The whole time he was talking, the coins were dancing around his hands, disappearing and reappearing.

    I remembered how awed I was and how clever I thought the act was. Thanks for this.

    • Michael says:

      Thank you! That sounds like a juggling act I used to do: “Tricks I Can’t Do.” It would have worked better if I could actually have done a few more tricks. ;~)

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