## Wednesday, May 27, 2015

RIDING A SONNET

At first there’s little that I have to say,
But soon a line arises in my mind
That starts me galloping along my way
As it grows clearer how my thought’s inclined,

And at the start there’s no way I can know
Where after fourteen metered lines I’ll be:
I boldly write and watch the poem grow

Until the ninth line, where I’ll take a turn
More certain now, but not entirely sure
Of where I’m headed, for I’ve still to learn
What point I’m making as my lines grow fewer:

Verse is a vehicle that takes you where
You never know you’ll go until you’re there.

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