I’ve missed the precious boat eternally
and never to return, it’s gone for good.
What shall I do but what I rightly should?
I’ll buy more tickets for more trips to sea
and board more boats before they slyly flee.
I’d catch the ones I missed – I really would –
but boats will leave me wishing that I could,
as all is lost, like sailors drowned at sea.
For life is turbulent and sometimes mess,
forever sloshing, passing by on waves,
destroying hopes, replacing them at best
with newer ones that give us dormant grace,
although we know we’re never put to rest,
but always sent to toil, mouth agape.
Hey Mike, I really like this sonnet as it plays on the overly used expression. Missed opportunities seem to weigh heavily on my mind lately, so it's interesting that you wrote a sonnet about it. Perhaps you would consider changing the 9th line to Life is a turbulent and soaking mess to eliminate the repetition of 'for' and diminish the awkwardness of a noun without an article. I hope you don't have too many missed opportunities, you're too young :)
ReplyDeleteThanks Hillary :) "Life is a turbulent and soaking mess" is a neat idea, but "Life is" doesn't really fit into iambic pentameter perfectly, as both syllables of "Life is" would be emphasized equally in normal speech. I tweaked it a bit though, keeping in your suggestion :)
ReplyDeleteI wrote this because I missed the deadline for the CBC Literary Awards this year...again. I started writing too late this time and couldn't finish my entry. But as always, I exaggerate with my poetry. :)