What it is

June 2010: In a desperate attempt to stave off senility, the monkey began writing a poem a day. By summer's end he'd begun to run out of versified political rants and philosophical bloviations. Then he hit on the improbable idea of writing micro fiction in the form of Elizabethan sonnets. Eureka. The birth of the "Sonnets From Other Lives" series. Two hundred plus lives later, he's still at it.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

9/4
Sonnets From Other Lives: Meg

You never called, so what was I to think?
(The cat clock's tick-tock eyes scan right left right.)
I opened up the wine I'd bought to drink
with you & Fred Astaire tonight.
then caved and left a message.  What's the use?
(I'm thinking Ginger doth protest too much.)
No doubt you're still rehearsing your excuse.
I'm asking myself why I'm always such
a cliche' --Rapunzel in her flat
waits endlessly to buzz Prince Dick  inside,
'til finally she's reduced to hoarding cats
like some Dickensian rejected bride.
The merlot is asking, Notice how it feels
like your  life is dancing backwards in high heels?
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