It's easy to perfect a stranger: see,
the girl in the next car, her silent song--
she shuts her eyes, sexual, throws her long
straight hair around in aural ecstasy;
Not hard to conjure up a life, with boys
and music at the center of it all;
no cares but whether such a beau will call
and whom to kiss, and when, and where--such joys!
Hard not to be jealous of one so young,
with freedom spread before her like a map
to be explored, and years yet till the trap
of age, hid in experience, is sprung;
But then the signal goes, and off she flies--
I stall, the greenlight shining in my eyes.
3 comments:
Good job. I have written a few sonnets--maybe five or six. They're not easy to do, and keeping to the meter and rhyme often skews what you began to say into something else entirely. I assume the number in front of the date tells us how many you have written? ...I'm impressed.
Actually, that's what I find interesting about the sonnet--the way the restrictions force you to frame your thought in new and inventive ways. Sometimes I do end up saying something different than I would have in free verse (which I admit I suck at), but that's okay, because it usually ends up better.
If you check out the so-called "American" sonnet form (I don't have any examples here--I'm using modified Shakespearean and Italian forms), it's a lot more wide open.
And yes, the number before the date tells what number sonnet it is in the year-long sequence. Thanks for stopping by! Check out the archives!
I love the mood that this one evokes.
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