ONE-SENTENCE SONNETS

I

                          

I’m on my way and shall not stop until

I’ve filled this sonnet’s form right to the end.

Following the pattern that great Will

Shakespeare preferred, with help my Muse may lend,

And, if I may, I’ll make a tour de force

A sonnet that’s a single sentence long

Yet seems completely uncontrived, unforced,

As in the dawn you hear a robin‘s song

That thrills you with commodious melody

And leaves you then inspired to try your own

In emulation of that prodigy,

Hoping you may indeed usurp its throne

     Proving yourself as skillful as the Bard

     By making something difficult seem not hard.

II

If this were the last sonnet that I write—

Fear not, since that is surely not the case—

What would I say, perhaps to give insight

Into what I experience as Grace

When I sit down to muse and to compose

And out of nowhere notions start to flow

And, if I’m patient, take me to its close

Where I discover what I did not know

When I began, which leaves me feeling blessed

And wondering what Providence prevails,

As if I were by grace itself possessed

That brings such new creation into being

     In imitation of its holy ways,

     That Source which warrants our eternal praise.