This is an experimental sonnet
There’s nothing in my head so I’ll just write
Workshop-style, until something pops in it
Or maybe I’ll just write and write, not quite
Sure of what it’s about; finish in spite
Of nothing to say. A good game to play
Well here I am, halfway through; still no sight
Of any slight meaning. They get away
With this in other art forms, so I say
Why not in this one? Why not pit my wit
(That’s singular. Not ‘wits,’ I’m not that bright)
Against the lack of muse? When music plays
It’s mainly sound; the words just have to fit
Into the structure, like I’ve done tonight…
Wed 16 July 2008
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