365 Sonnets is completed! While there be no more new posts, feel free to read the sonnets and comment! :)

You can read my new poetry at Some Turbid Night: :)

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Sonnet CCXV

I have a topic every time I write – but then –
it squirms and wiggles, thrashing everywhere I move,
develops like a foetus, growing more and more,
until I see how everything should rightly end.

However, not expectantly, my words amend,
rewriting to another place. My child’s gore
spills on my page, controlling me. I start the war
and soon we battle. Who shall win? Just find the end.

And you shall see how thoughts have sorted out like mice,
lined up at last, behaving prim and clean and nice.

But oftentimes my children come to pressure me.
I follow what they tell my hands, which should suffice,
but no – the war shall rage. And in the end, advice
from them has changed my writing to another beast.


  1. Well, the foetus may be wiggly, but I like the "children" that are birthed here!

  2. At least I don't have to worry about their poopy troubles...that's the good thing about my "children" :)


A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

Thanks, Wordle!