Sonnet XI – Writing Joy
The pen is gently scratchy on the page,
Familiar the sound to all who write,
Whether it be for novels or the stage
Or ramblings poetic late at night.
The words pour out in rough untidy hand,
Corrections adding to the melee there.
In script only the writer understands
They try to capture something they can share.
As ideas grow, the words they need to move.
Reordered to enhance the growing whole.
Our changing text, the poem to improve,
The process thus brings pleasure to the soul.
Remarkable to find such written bliss?
An electronic notepad brought you this.
It’s National Poetry Day so I thought I should post a poem of my own.
This sonnet perhaps owes more to Lewis Carroll than to Shakespeare. It was written in honour of a spreadsheet wizard of my acquaintance. I hope it amuses, but there is no prize for solving my not very subtle riddle.
Sonnet VI – The Wizard
His fingers swiftly o’er the keyboard move,
To fill each cell with number, word or sign,
To calculate an answer and to prove
The hidden meaning stored in every line.
So often overlooked the tricks he plays
With formulae to make them do his will.
Takes data some have puzzled o’er for days
And then transforms it with unequalled skill.
A wizard he, in everyday disguise,
Behind the scenes serenely casts his spells.
He conjures images before your eyes,
There is no question now that he excels.
Now take J1, E4 and D10 too
And see this wizard thus revealed to you.
It started, as these things are wont to do, with a completely innocent conversation. It started with sonnets and somehow moved onto other poetry.
“All nursery rhymes are poems but not all poems are nursery rhymes” was the sentence that caught my attention as my imagination invariably started drawing a Venn diagram. Next, my mind added “Sonnets” into the picture which left the obvious question. Was there anything in the intersection? Is ?
There are several ways to answer this question but my solution is to attempt to fill the intersection by writing the following:
Sonnet IV – Humpty’s Fall
When Humpty Dumpty seated was on high
Upon a wall of bricks so wide and tall,
So unexpected did things go awry
And Humpty thus did fall from off the wall.
Fair rapidly he tumbled to the ground
Impacting with a most almighty crash,
With tiny pieces scattered all around
The ground was littered when his shell did smash.
Now to his aid did men and horses run
Sent by the king to help this needy soul.
Alas, assistance could they give him none,
They couldst not succour him nor make him whole.
So endeth Humpty Dumpty’s tragic tale
Which have I here the honour to regale.
Possibly a little silly but it was fun to try and make it work. What do you think?
Sonnet II – The Snowy Field
My footfalls soft upon the snowy ground
Alone, the field is empty and too still.
I sought for springtime warmth, what have I found?
Lips numbed by biting wind, hands white and chill.
The stream in icy spate still rushes on
Past head-bowed flowers weighted down with snow.
The ice encrusted buds; their joy has gone,
They struggle ‘gainst this cold unbidden foe.
The sky is overcast and leaden grey,
From hedgerow now the bird’s song sounds forlorn.
He sings alone – who should have mate today,
Too cold to woo, his hopes have died stillborn.
I thought that spring had warmed my heart but then,
Cold winter’s hand hath frozen all again.