Once again, at the last minute I have managed to pull a poem out of the recesses of my once-creative brain. I am pretty happy with this one. Our instructions:
Fourteen lines, that’s all I’m asking. A simple rhyme scheme:
The first eight lines should develop a thought, with the ninth line (e) marking a turn in your thinking, introducing a surprise twist in theme or imagery.
Do this, and guess what?
You’ve just written an English Sonnet. It’s.that.simple.
I left my “turn” until line 13, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles at times. Here’s my contribution:
Ode to a Sweater
Priced out of reach when newly knit,
I heed the thrift store’s silent beck’ning…
Through rack on rack my fingers flit
To purchase with a smaller reck’ning!
With furrowed brow and just one hand
I pick the best from imitations
Hidden amongst the wild, the bland –
Lies beauty, softness – yarn oblations!
How soft, like butter on the skin!
How rich the colors, dark or pale!
I’d buy them time and time again
And glory in a half-price sale.
If kashmir goats became extinct,
I’d freeze to death for sure, I think!
I confess to being hopelessly addicted to cashmere sweaters. Here is a picture of the objects of my affection, and the source of my cold-weather comfort! (My black one is in the wash so it’s not in the picture)
All but one of these were purchased at a thrift store. And the one at the bottom, the creamy white one, is actually a man’s sweater but it’s by far the nicest quality – and the oldest, I think; it was my first “find” and the one that got me hooked.