April 6th, 2008

Axe

Any Fool Can Think of Words that Rhyme

It's National Poetry Month, so I thought I'd put my newfound knowledge of iambs to the test and write a sonnet in iambic pentameter. Anyone with better knowledge of poetry than me who spots mistakes I made, I'd appreciate it if you pointed them out to me.

Hate is Just Like a Faucet, It Turns Off and On

Your gut wound gift was old and overlooked
It will kill us yet but its humdrum now.
I've already heard your reason mistook
For wit; it's just the language of a row.
I've been told a man has no worth until
His hard work has won at least one Oscar.
I would be unable to pay one bill,
Though, before I would like for another
Paul Haggis to win for a film like
Crash.
So why should we rate each other like that?
No, we're too smart for it, it's just we're rash.
We just war for the wound, our absent cat.
Relax, I've only phantom ire for you
Darling, we've both got better things to do


The title's a reference to a line from "Fine and Mellow" by Billie Holiday, a far more eloquent composition than what I've done here.

Looks like I'm not going to get much sleep to-morrow either, so I'd better take advantage of my brain while I can.
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