modern sonnet examples iambic pentameter

I wrote this poem yesterday, in one sitting.

(A little something, she admits, escapist) Īlone able, without explanation, to say, This She airily licks a bone-dry finger’s tip, Will be the explanation-that just like this Will strip him, layer by layer, to the boneĪnd snug his beating heart next to her own Īnd then what’s more, she’ll trade a floating ribįor his and his for hers and if they’re buried She’ll show him how the bodyįalls from bone like blood-soaked petals-and just To see her as she is?-accept her?-love herĭisrobe for him.

(If only she could lose a little weight).Ĭould itch? She scratches with a chalky finger. If not for these she’d be by now a novelist, The books, the plants, the litter box and cat). Non-fiction- How to Simplify One’s Life: Ten Easy Steps! She worries she owns too much. She’s in heaven reading fantasyĪnd science-fiction. You wouldn’t think a skeleton would stretch,īut now she feels light-hearted.

She wonders, ever fit through those? She stretches. Herself (for who she really is) but then,įor now, enough to let him think he knows her. Restore the bloody garment strip by stripĪnd choose a flattering skin. What she’s undone and cover up her lovely bones. Those skulls with holes in them were womens’ skulls. The ulnar and the thread-like median nerves Īnd lastly plucks her tongue and eyes out. To spread it out the way she sees it diagrammed Her favorite muscle is the gluteus maximus-Ī great thick slab of blood and tissue-hersĪnd his alike (although she’s never seen him Stray garments or a bed sheet (the muscles She mostly keeps the blood from staining clothesīut when she’s taking off her muscles oneīy one there’s always blood that soaks into She’ll pinch them absentmindedly and bruise them.Īsked if she is sore she’ll answer, lying, They’re just as slippery and jelled betweenĪnd seaweed. The fanning terminus of each that binds sinew The rectus femoris of her legs and soleus, While wishing she could just be comfortable She keeps a shade of skin for each occasion Then right, hitching her hips, until her skin Her head, then shoulders, breasts and belly left “To think what shoes have done for my career!”

Who said she’d once had posture just like hers The bus stop where the teen-aged boy had told her The autumn leaves of Central Park, fallingĪs windows, streetlights, advertisements lightĪnd crosswalks. Her kitchen window she can almost glimpse

Modern sonnet examples iambic pentameter