I’ve just wrung out my hundred-fifty-fourth.
As much as Shakespeare wrote. How proud I feel!
Persistence, stubbornness – these got me here.
And now – I wonder – dare I write some more?
Perhaps I’ll stop tomorrow. End this war.
I’ll end this war of strange ideas and greed.
I’ve written tons. I’ve got that great Bard beat.
But still I write. I write until I’m sore.
Why do I write? Specifically, why these?
Why sonnets - difficult, and bratty too?
And why so many? What’s the urgent need?
I wish I knew. When answers come to be,
I’ll know the very first I’ll tell is you:
when finished, both of us need remedies!
So...I used very short phrases to indicate my impatience and literally "short" temper. Also, the beginning of every line is capitalized until the last line, indicating a breather of sorts - my "remedy" - finishing my sonnets.
ReplyDeleteI wrote this one just now because I realized today that Shakespeare wrote 154 sonnets and this one, my 155th, has just passed his amount!