In case any of you are really bored...
My first sonnet attempt in... actually I'm not sure I ever properly wrote a sonnet. CTY poetry class, perhaps? Amateurish manipulations of rhythm and rhyme abound. No, I'm not really sure what possessed me.
Discipline; I wish each breath would pull
me through the world, a gliding stroke, canoe
and oar. A flow, muscular ease of tension, lull
tension, lull. Instead, my thoughts are interrupted
form is broken. My breathing falters
pauses, gasps, my concentration bound
to agitation. Crosswise to the waters
I row one way then another, run aground
I must relearn this mental flow, unlearn
this manic cadence, put my breath in time
and train my scattered thoughts to pull in turn
Iamb disciple of the word, of rhyme
and poetry's a discipline, like prayer,
distilling meaning from the shifting air.
Next up: a sestina?
Discipline; I wish each breath would pull
me through the world, a gliding stroke, canoe
and oar. A flow, muscular ease of tension, lull
tension, lull. Instead, my thoughts are interrupted
form is broken. My breathing falters
pauses, gasps, my concentration bound
to agitation. Crosswise to the waters
I row one way then another, run aground
I must relearn this mental flow, unlearn
this manic cadence, put my breath in time
and train my scattered thoughts to pull in turn
Iamb disciple of the word, of rhyme
and poetry's a discipline, like prayer,
distilling meaning from the shifting air.
Next up: a sestina?