Paeans - and Aches

over the years

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Summer Sonnet

Like corporate annual reports,
Odes to summer, are, I confess,
Not among my favourite thoughts;
They’re things I write under duress.
But having decided I would write one,
I sit, sweating, with pursed lips,
Should I make it funny, a light one?
Glib, nonsensical, even—gasp—flip?

(Alas I’m using up the quota
of lines the classic sonnet permits.
I wouldn’t mind if it was shorter.
A full fourteen lines can be the pits.
Only two more lines? What a bummer!)
Oh well. Here’s my poem: I hate summer.

Saturday, May 07, 2005

Done

There’s rent to be paid by the tenth—
It’s done.

And doctors’ bills for ills and chills,
all done.

Deadlines obeyed, dues paid,
yes, done.

Stories told, products sold,
we’re done

Squeezed them out past block and drought,
they’re done.

The yoke of words bespoke -
undone.

Free now to write what i want to write but...
i’m done.