Wednesday, 14 October 2015

New Hues (Sonnet)

Okay so the homework for my creative writing AS level was to write a sonnet. Hmm. Easy? No. Google the details of a sonnet if you don't believe me. But just to warn you, I do know that this doesn't exactly work as a sonnet; I am aware that some of the stresses are muddled. But it was my first attempt at a sonnet so here it goes...

We're lost in no identity parades,
deep wounds of little consequence, pistols
slumber under billows, day no erodes.
Clean and sew your wounds out - clear flesh crystals.
Yet she has broiling, coiling thought of who
she is, minute beetles under her moans
to knit each word, caress the dark: sooth, help,
sleep, no. Blue fists upon her brittle bones.
Fists, MINE, did burrow at the cheeks, her whites
blood-shot and leaking where the sun should rest.

At six we flew kites, dancing as fresh sprites;
the breeze stole gust, myriad dust abreast.
But at eight I saw the need in me to
sock these sprites out from her eyes, no clue!

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