An English sonnet inspired by a friend...
She calls herself "a creature of routine":
The daily, weekly, monthly, yearly round,
Well worn, now wears a certain satin sheen;
She wears it, firmly and securely bound.
Yet not entirely without chagrin
Is this admission that she finds fulfilling
A life that, from the outside looking in,
Might well appear a good bit less than thrilling.
The sudden crash of cymbals, trumpet's blare:
Dramatics are what some folks seem to need
In order simply to remain aware
They are not dead, but still alive indeed!
While music smooth and low well suits the spirit
Of those whose ear is fine enough to hear it.
Sonnet by Rob Graber
Read 1220 times
Written on 2016-09-17 at 19:48
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Creature of Routine
She calls herself "a creature of routine":
The daily, weekly, monthly, yearly round,
Well worn, now wears a certain satin sheen;
She wears it, firmly and securely bound.
Yet not entirely without chagrin
Is this admission that she finds fulfilling
A life that, from the outside looking in,
Might well appear a good bit less than thrilling.
The sudden crash of cymbals, trumpet's blare:
Dramatics are what some folks seem to need
In order simply to remain aware
They are not dead, but still alive indeed!
While music smooth and low well suits the spirit
Of those whose ear is fine enough to hear it.
Sonnet by Rob Graber
Read 1220 times
Written on 2016-09-17 at 19:48
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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