Sonnets

I write sonnets to hold myself together.

Tag: bad ideas

The happiest conceivable creature in the universe

Context — I rather like the thought experiment, what animal’s method of movement would you change for greatest comedic effect? This grew from one of those thoughts. There is a correct answer.

Just close your eyes a moment, reminisce
through memories of joyful wildlife,
identify who might feel highest bliss
from frolicking as human child might,
who’d fly as hawk, who’d bounce on pogo sticks,
a verb and situation of your choice.
Perhaps an octopus pop-lock remix,
or sloth in flight would plentifully rejoice,
blue whale massaged as Kobe cow, it’s hard
to know precisely whose euphoria
would be the greatest of the whole vanguard.
While sight imagined leaves you more glee, the
stretched eons animals have rollicked please:
they’re fine without our innovations’ tease.

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Lim[x->sonnet](your claims) = lies!

Context — I wrote this on a Caltrain ride in late 2011, to someone who claimed she liked math and verse. She never replied.

 

When Sundays linger, on my back, in grass
responsibility all cast aside
I ponder mathematics, fluids, mass
and sonnets, quite like you (unless you lied).
I equally lament the lack of rho,
the absence of e, pi, and Golden Mean:
iambic tens in couplets are the foe
of calculus’ lexicon. Obscene
to think the haiku couldn’t choose base ten!
I laugh at limericks’ length limit of five!
All other verse lacks ying, lacks yang, lacks zen
compared to sonnets. Q.E.D.: derived.
If proofs above echo your inner voice,
perhaps we might at length further rejoice.

Introducing the Butt Tap Game

Context — the butt tap game can be played with an arbitrarily large number of people.

 

I’ll now unlikely game soon introduce.
Herein instructions are to break the ice
of company that, else-wise, might induce
a suicidal fit, whose sole device
is waxing on and on, or those who lurk
on edges of your conversations, then
at moments inconvenient vault in, jerk
a joyful chat towards grisly CNN.
So gather all these folks, and tell them there’s
a competition starting: you’re to tag
the heiney of competitor, while theirs
is do the same to you. They’ll then zigzag
about the room like bats. A bettered scene
you’ve left by changing terms from trite routine.

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