A Curly Girl with bells on both her wrists
And silver socks enclosing both her feet
Went to No-Place (for such a place exists)
To ask the King what he liked best to eat.
The King of No-Place (children all should know)
Was wicked to his bones: his favorite feast
Was Curly Girl Fricassee a la Mode
(it's an acquired taste, to say the least).
So Curly Girl and King Nobody met,
And more than that I really cannot say.
The truth about who ate and who got et,
And what made Curly Girl go out that day
In the first place, are just some of those things
Best saved for grownups, cannibals, and kings.
2 comments:
Nice...it'll be interesting to see how your sonnets progress through the year and what factors such as the season changing will have...good luck!
This one is fun. Feels like one of those written because one either wishes to write a sonnet or has determined to write a sonnet. Sometimes such idle commitments spring the freshest and most surprising work.
Whimsy is difficult precisely because it can't be forced, but you pull it off nicely. Enjoyed the C. L. Dodgson allusion in the last line, too.
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