Tag Archives: sonnet

Tipping Point

Upon the summit, or so nearly there That he can taste it, the late trickster king Stands straight to rub his aching shoulder where It chafes the boulder, savoring the Spring. On heights of depths he stretches, knowing well How … Continue reading

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Port Deposit 1965

When I was very small I had a friend Whom I called Ducky, which was apropos Because he was. My sister would pretend That he was just a toy; he wasn’t, though. To prove to her that Ducky could, too, … Continue reading

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Sonnet 45

My president is nothing like the sun: He’s far from bright, though shadows does he cast; If truth is beauty, he’s an ugly one; If beards be lies, he wears out razors fast. I have seen some whom I with … Continue reading

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The Point

Those motions won’t go through themselves “It” can’t get in without your phone There’s plans need shifting onto shelves And nine more stitches needing sewn That molehill isn’t yet a mount Though milk’s been spilt there’s none yet crying Unhatched … Continue reading

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Regifting

I admire people who can paint, Who aren’t embarrassed when they’re asked to draw. The Muse of Visual Arts showed true restraint When gracing me: I earn less awe than, “Aww.” Likewise the vocal arts, whose patroness Gave me the … Continue reading

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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 … Continue reading

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Mayor Of My Pajamas

I am the mayor of my own pajamas. My bunny slippers look to me to lead As real-life baby rabbits do their mamas. That I’m in charge my nightclothes have agreed. As writers who suppress their Oxford commas In deference … Continue reading

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