Tag Archives: sonnet

It’s Up To Me

Because, of course, it’s up to me, I say: That isn’t music, that’s just noise with words. Music is the thing musicians play, Or Nature, like with waterfalls or birds. Because it’s up to me, I’ll make this clear: Your … Continue reading

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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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