The cold it seeps into my soul
It drains my life and leaves a hole
For where I was alive to speak
I am no longer strong but weak.
If only I could rally round
And put my self on firmer ground
Lift a limb and wave for help
A full grown man, no untried whelp.
And, lo, behold, a sign I see
A calling calling out to me
A stranger heeds my need and so
I lift my eyes and forwards go.
Is life so built, can truth be known
By claiming breath is free to own.
It’s been a long while,
and there’s a reason for that
I don’t write sonnets;
well, I don’t write that many,
no more than one a leap year.
There’s a bee in my sonnet
and I don’t know what to do;
I’ve thought a lot upon it,
I just haven’t got a clue.
The bee is buzzing loudly,
calling all its friends?
Now the bee is waving proudly,
I wonder how this ends.
If I get stung I’ll surely cry,
or inflate like a balloon;
but, whatever happens, I will try
not to check out far too soon.
There’s a bee in my sonnet,
and it’s got my number on it.
Never again seen,
by man or woman alike:
farewell to Sonnets! 😞
It might not be all that good.
You might not even read it;
but, when you throw it away,
please dispose of it responsibly.
In the middle of the Pacific
there is a ‘Poetry Island’
seventeen syllables long,
that is made up
entirely from discarded Haiku.
And, that’s just the Haiku –
Sonnet Island is now being lived upon
by a small Metaphorian tribe.
Shall I compare thee to a brewer’s dray?
Thou art not the sort to take that too well;
So, upon your face I shall not now dwell,
And be careful here what I deign to say,
Or shall not see the darling buds of May.
I am a Poetry Type.
Haiku for Nature;
a Tanka for love poems;
Limericks, also funny;
Sonnets are for love poems;
Pantoums and Villanelles weird.
(Sort of) A Sonnet to Cluedo
“How do I solve thee?
Let me count the ways.
Thou art more complex
And more intriguing
Than a maze inside a labyrinth
Within an enigma.
In fact, I think that you are
Mrs White in the Kitchen
With the Food Mixer!
What? No food mixer?
How strange. You’d think they’d
Have a food mixer in there – I have.
Though, I suppose it’s better for making cakes than corpses…
Although a corpse-cake
May be an idea for a Cluedo-themed party… that’s an idea.
Oh! Well, perhaps it was Mr Bun the Baker in the Bakery with the Stale Baguette?
What do you mean, you’re not playing anymore?
It’s your game and you’re going home!
Now, we’ll never know who did it…
With what… And to whom!”
Posted in cluedo, detectives, poem, Poetry, prose, Sonnet
Tagged #cluedo, #detectives, #games, #prose, #sonnet, Poetry
May Contain Words
Is this poem doing it for you?
Has it got enough punch
To make you miss your lunch;
Or are you yearning for something shorter?
A haiku, perhaps;
Where it’s over in seconds;
And you can move on.
Do you desire serious ‘Literature’
If ‘that’ is so, I hope the words are not too dull.
They ‘may’ cause a lull.
Is this poem funny enough?
Or ‘too’ funny?
Is there a definitive amount of humour?
I think I heard a rumour that there is point where the length of a line is considered ‘too’ long; though it could be wrong.
Is this poem ‘too’ long for you?
Or ‘too’ repetitive?
Or ‘too’ repetitive?
Or is it familiarity breeding contempt;
Or, it could be exempt from the ‘too repetitive’ clause of poem-writing.
If there was such a thing.
And, should you have stopped reading this after the haiku?
Did you spot the haiku?
Do you care?
Do you even like poetry?
Posted in fun, Haiku, Humor, humour, poem, Poetry, silly, Sonnet
Tagged #irony, #sonnet, Haiku, Poem, Poetry