Wednesday, October 28, 2015


                    One day he realized that all he spoke
                    Came out iambically in beats of five,
                    Which made him wonder if something was broke-
                    en in his brain—or was he more alive?

                    So many years of writing sonnets might,
                    Day after day, have finally realigned
                    His neural passageways to cause this plight,
                    Altering the foundations of his mind.

                    But then he thought, “Well, this might not be bad;
                    I might get more attention when I speak—
                    Who knows, indeed, I might start a new fad
                    And make our daily lingo much less bleak.

                         But, then again, this might be thought a curse—
                         Though of all evil spells, one could do worse.”