- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Tomorrow's Un-Sonnet
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Tomorrow's pages lie untouched, unstained,
unmarked by ink or quill... Stop! Flowery masks
wear easy, hide ugly behind honesty feigned,
then ask the audience applause. The task,
a sonnet. The goal, pure truth. What if I break meter
then cut this line short?
What if I write a phrase a few beats too long, the next bar
unwritten?
So lets try this again, ignoring schemes,
defying rules if need necessitates.
The message makes demands, reshapes
its ingrown form, bends words like days unseen.
Tomorrow's yet to come. Its hours still
uncomposed. Stop whining. Chill... And live!
- COMMENTS
