Midnight Meta-Sonnet

Beyond the midnight hour my pen awakes -
I turn a line to page as quick as able.
Perhaps I go so far for friendship's sake;
Or on a bet, to sonnet at the table.

A subject, that elusive quarry waits;
My sleepy brain avoids the effort needed.
It nears instead the site of Nod's dark gates,
Avoiding sweat upon the forehead beaded.

The haiku warm-up seemed to loose the tide:
My verse flows freely on the too-small pad.
To write each line requires I but bide
(Provided I need not weed good from bad).

My sonnet done, I shall anon retire,
And lose the punchiness that doth inspire.

The sonnet above was written between 12:30 and 1:00 AM one night, while instant-messaging with two friends. It may not be good, but by golly, it's a Shakespearean-style sonnet!

Note: the haiku bit is because a different friend had an away message asking for haiku, which I was producing in prodigious quantities. One of the people I was IMing with suggested she up the ante to sonnets or villanelles. I asked him if he would write a sonnet, and he said no sonnets after midnight, so of course I had to write one.

Go back to the old stuff page.