A Rewrite: Word Roost

[georginasand]

While NOT writing my sonnet for this week (note to self: Petrarch only gives you five rhyming sounds, DO NOT sacrifice one of them to a neat repetition thing, no matter how  neat it is), I re-read a bunch of work from  the summer. Also not inspiring. Why didn't someone tell me I have been writing crap all summer? Oh, you are the silent judgmental types? Cool, we can work with this.

But I really liked the images/concept behind my poems-on-a-napkin sonnet. Always With You, I believe I called it. The writing was awful, though. So I rewrote it.

Voila

 

Word Roost

A sonnet on a napkin is a poor

ode to the glorious page, but today

I face a double test—a quest from lore.

I puzzle over my tea: How may

I write without paper…and with no words.

napkins might stand in for denser notebooks:

they have more given than pads, if not more words.

Paper is less forgiving, lines in its looks,

not so easily thrown into the bin,

or sneezed in. Words lost to the glop of colds:

a kind loan to a sick friends or the sin

or suicide by a poet who holds

more fear of pages full of the wrong words

than empty lines: a nice roost for birds.

 

I like this one much better.

I remain,
Georgie