I usually tend to stick to free verse when writing poems, but I thought I would try to write in a restrictive form to see how it affected my ability to write. Turns out, it was as difficult as I imagined it would be, but I also enjoyed building on Shakespeare’s typical sonnet structure and writing a sonnet about how a muse overshadows the poetry they inspire.
If you knew that all of the poetry
that has ever flowed out of my body
is for you, your angles, your symmetry.
It breathes for you, concealed under shoddy
penmanship, hasty metaphors, scratches.
Trying to morph itself into something
more unclear, a hue that never matches
your vibrancy. Doing its best, hiding
away still, in the dark, when it sees you.
In your absence, it soars, blossoms and blooms.
But then it shrieks and screeches, needing few
words of approval because it assumes
that without you, it is nothing; null, void.
But with you, it’s a world with colours devoid.
Image: by Jaci XIV on Flickr Commons