pearls

Sonnet 1

Posted in quatorzain, sonnet cycle by maggie on 2006/11/30
Sonnet 1

This wasn't how my work was meant to end:
a ragged string of sonnets unrevised,
like how my chance to stay out might depend
on how well I behave unsupervised.

At least I'll try my best along the way
to use their voice as if it were my own.
One never knows which words will get to stay
or like those lives which don't work out, get thrown.

So heat some coffee up and grab a chair.
Just don't take anything too seriously
and I won't either. Really, I don't care.

Mine won't seek your censure nor your praise.
It's just a game, means little more to me:
a hundred poems in just as many days.

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13 Responses

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  1. lady maggie said, on 2009/10/14 at 20:44

    Another Sonnet 1

    Like how my chance to stay out might depend
    on how well I behave unsupervised,
    my shot at coming through as advertised
    might hinge on how what's started here will end.
    
    In other words, I'm not one to befriend.
    I don't intend to stay, as you've surmised,
    much longer than will take to get disguised
    the borrowed voices to which I pretend.
    
    This won't take long.  Some coffee and a smoke
    would keep it light enough to pass the time.
    Perhaps a little sex?  (No, that's a joke.)
    
    And oh, ignore its structure and its rhyme —
    that's just to help you overlook I spoke,
    to learn the culprit and forget her crime.
    
    
  2. davidmoolten said, on 2009/10/15 at 23:27

    Very deft use of the sonnet form, and you got so many of the words in, but kept a nice strong focus. I really like “Can we get past that you’ve the better soul/ to work with…”

    David

    • lady maggie said, on 2009/10/16 at 16:23

      thanks, it was mildly amusing to me that the excuse granted by exercise of getting in as many of the words as i managed so aptly reflected what i was trying to get around to getting across here anyway, except i never seem to get quite enough of the words in enough or right enough or enough enough to make the difference, and my mild amusement is probably misguided and misplaced but it was fun while it lasted, thanks again for the read and the comment —l.m.

  3. lady maggie said, on 2009/10/15 at 21:18

    Another Sonnet 2

    My shot at coming through as advertised
    might hinge on how what's started here will end,
    like if my consonant flesh gets vowelized
    to language I'm not called on to defend
    for each and any mark, on every bend
    or change, at every word you've criticized.
    I've no clue what your barbs today intend;
    just yesterday my thoughts and dreams were prized.
    
    I know, I know, you wouldn't do the same -
    Can we get past that you've the better soul
    to work with? — I know I'm the one we blame.
    
    You're right, this life I got is not the whole
    nice cosmoramic too irresistible game
    I'd win by yielding you absolute control.
    
    

  4. rallentanda said, on 2009/10/16 at 10:16

    I like the conflict in the poem…’I know I’m the one to blame’
    ‘I’d win by yielding you absolute control”
    I also like the voice you use (like a soliloquy)….I’m going to try this.
    Sonnet form executed with ease and use of given words as well!
    Well done.

    • lady maggie said, on 2009/10/16 at 16:47

      yeah i blame myself for always being the one to blame but at least that tells me which right side of it i’m on, and i think the voice has been there since the cough i had that winter before when i didn’t give a damn and it took me down half an octave and even practicing other notes an hour a day hasn’t cured me so whether in form or out that’s probably me you’re hearing, thanks for the read and the observations —l.m.

  5. poetryaboutart said, on 2009/10/16 at 15:31

    “My shot at coming through” sonnet —

    A poem about an argument (or some kind of personal conflict) that makes an argument through that time-honored argument-making form — the sonnet. A poem of great formal control about the theme of who’s in control. The voice in this poem sounds so plausible. Great job.
    –Therese L. Broderick

    • lady maggie said, on 2009/10/16 at 18:52

      yeah she is difficult to satisfy so easy to leave, is the muse, but i couldn’t help myself smiling at you catching us wrestling and a sonnet does make nice handcuffs so she’ll figure out who’s boss i was hoping, and anyway thank you for reading and for your comment, i’ll make sure she sees it —l.m.

  6. lady maggie said, on 2009/10/16 at 15:32

    Another Sonnet 3

    I'd win by yielding absolute control,
    my every longing mothered up, my flaws
    forgiven, my obsessions put on pause.
    The only price would be my loser's role.
    
    And wouldn't you win too?  That was your goal,
    I take it: me surrender to the cause
    while you humbly accept all our applause.
    And who would ever miss the chance we stole?
    
    Alright, I'll be there Sunday afternoon,
    just let me first tell someone where I went,
    unless you had some day more opportune,
    
    just choose the date, assume you've my consent
    if not just yet, then maybe sometime soon —
    My will means nothing without your intent.
    
    
  7. maggie said, on 2013/03/25 at 10:27
    At least I'll try my best along the way
    to use their voice as if it were my own.
    My muses' voice, I mean.  The words I've known
    since every birth through hellbent death's decay
    and in between. That's what I'll mean to say.
    It won't suffice. I can't hope to atone
    for all my silences, my feeble groan,
    my senseless shrieks, what futile hopes I pray. 
    
    But still, at least I'll try my best along
    the way to use their voice as if it were
    my own. In memory of and love for her.
    To such creation as its spell might stir.
    And for what good its meaning will incur.
    In that, at least, I'll offer up my song.
  8. maggie said, on 2013/03/25 at 12:26
    One never knows which words will get to stay
    or — like those lives which don't work out — get thrown,
    until that silence after's overgrown
    with lies that choke what one'd meant most to say.
    One never knows which dreams will get to play
    or — like those friends who don't keep on — get blown
    on winds that dash themselves against cold stone
    too quickly buried in our yesterday.
    
    Judge mine as you will, then.  Just don't think
    me to concur, as though you were the one
    deciding truth in what I've said and done. 
    Throw my words and life out, if you must;
    go spread my dreams and friendship out like dust.
    No matter.  I'll still bleed a lover's ink. 
  9. maggie said, on 2016/11/18 at 07:32
    My shot at coming through as advertised
    might hinge on how what's started here will end.
    In other words, I'm not one to befriend —
    I don't intend to stay.  As you've surmised,
    I'm not what you expected. You've despised
    in me that faith on which I most depend.
    I can't play like a friend whom you'd defend
    against attacks against me you've devised.
    
    Tomorrow this'll all've been erased
    like words we never said nor felt much meant.
    I'm not the kind of girl you'll get bereft
    about. You'll scarcely see the hole I left
    unless you turn to look which way I went.
    Proving me as I was called to: Waste.
    
  10. maggie said, on 2016/12/10 at 13:08
    Beats any moment of life so cold
    that of it could shred of truth be told,
    that it exists outside our faith's one Rede?
    As breathes our moon beyond her night,
    so too our craft beyond its rite
    lives in and through the life we lead.
    Every act, word and thought,
    in all we will, in all willed not,
    harm in nothing we intend
    without exception, without end.

Sincere comment by readers who accept responsibility for their words will earn my appreciation and response.

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