01-31-2014, 05:35 AM
So this is how we enter: clockwork's tick,
they tock; they tell your story in the hall.
The childhood strengths that guide you brick by brick
(a human finger moves us after all)
All Our Yesterdays
i.
So this is how we enter clockwork's tick
into a lifetime of fragility.
Come quick, small child! Your heart is but a chick's
small squeaks; your wings are barely feathered. See,
the steel-clawed beast in smock and apron gear
won't harm your molded head. This violent day
will fade. Don't turn to crawl back in from fear
of numbered clocks that beep your heart away—
into cold night, in bed with mother moon,
brief as icicle drips at sunrise—strife
will lift as scrapbook pages turn. So soon
you will grow old! The brevity of life
will strike you grey; yet pictures line the wall,
they talk. They tell your story in the hall.
ii.
They talk; they tell your story in the hall.
A wall of photo shoots from nought 'til now
of scratched-knee-summers, or a freezing fall.
Vignettes of crawls and steps; I don't know how
you raised your chubby frame from off the floor
and slowly skewed, at first a step: Then two.
To stop the wobbling arse you grabbed the door
then jiggled like a jelly, what a view.
So many times you fell, you will again
but hopefully you'll rise enough to see,
the value of a stumble or the strain
that bends a body, often lays the key.
Inside a man's foundation one can pick
the childhood strengths that guide you brick by brick.
iii.
the childhood strengths that guide you brick by brick
into a cloistered world of selfish greed
so quickly does the ego learn his trick
of choosing want with small regard for need
then anger fuels your unresponsive mood
and tantrums win when met with weak resolve
so ev’rything you ask for, clothes or food
are sentences for crimes you can’t absolve
the lies they tell you just to grow you up
imprinted with their out-of-fashion pains
like too-sweet soda from a paper cup
that doesn't slake your thirst, but leaves faint stains
with all the futile lines writ on a wall;
a human finger moves us after all
We are ready for the next sonnet.
This will be your first line:
a human finger moves us after all
The rhymes have not yet been established for the next stanza, so you may choose any end rhyme you like for your closing couplet. (But please try not to repeat any of the rhymes from the first stanza.)
Feedback is much appreciated, and if you guys want to keep working on your sonnets, just let me know, and I'll update the crown accordingly with your edits.
they tock; they tell your story in the hall.
The childhood strengths that guide you brick by brick
(a human finger moves us after all)
All Our Yesterdays
i.
So this is how we enter clockwork's tick
into a lifetime of fragility.
Come quick, small child! Your heart is but a chick's
small squeaks; your wings are barely feathered. See,
the steel-clawed beast in smock and apron gear
won't harm your molded head. This violent day
will fade. Don't turn to crawl back in from fear
of numbered clocks that beep your heart away—
into cold night, in bed with mother moon,
brief as icicle drips at sunrise—strife
will lift as scrapbook pages turn. So soon
you will grow old! The brevity of life
will strike you grey; yet pictures line the wall,
they talk. They tell your story in the hall.
ii.
They talk; they tell your story in the hall.
A wall of photo shoots from nought 'til now
of scratched-knee-summers, or a freezing fall.
Vignettes of crawls and steps; I don't know how
you raised your chubby frame from off the floor
and slowly skewed, at first a step: Then two.
To stop the wobbling arse you grabbed the door
then jiggled like a jelly, what a view.
So many times you fell, you will again
but hopefully you'll rise enough to see,
the value of a stumble or the strain
that bends a body, often lays the key.
Inside a man's foundation one can pick
the childhood strengths that guide you brick by brick.
iii.
the childhood strengths that guide you brick by brick
into a cloistered world of selfish greed
so quickly does the ego learn his trick
of choosing want with small regard for need
then anger fuels your unresponsive mood
and tantrums win when met with weak resolve
so ev’rything you ask for, clothes or food
are sentences for crimes you can’t absolve
the lies they tell you just to grow you up
imprinted with their out-of-fashion pains
like too-sweet soda from a paper cup
that doesn't slake your thirst, but leaves faint stains
with all the futile lines writ on a wall;
a human finger moves us after all
We are ready for the next sonnet.
This will be your first line:
a human finger moves us after all
The rhymes have not yet been established for the next stanza, so you may choose any end rhyme you like for your closing couplet. (But please try not to repeat any of the rhymes from the first stanza.)
Feedback is much appreciated, and if you guys want to keep working on your sonnets, just let me know, and I'll update the crown accordingly with your edits.