When I put up my fifth sonnet yesterday I was averaging one every three days. I’m going to have to get cracking if I’m to reach my goal of 14 in the month. I’ve been mulling over scenes from my childhood. Here’s one:
Sonnet 6: My Catholic mother enforces modesty
Our mum, mock-shocked, would cry, ‘Ooooh Venus!’
if any child by running nude
allowed a glimpse of bum or penis
(we called them ‘bom’ and ‘tail’ – less rude).
Though this was fine for either sister,
I whinged that I’d grow up a Mister,
so ‘Venus’ seemed a little wrong.
Deferring to my little dong
she’d call ‘Adonis!’ should I streak.
How glad I am (Oh yes, I glad am!)
She didn’t cry out ‘Eve!’ and ‘Adam!’,
invoke the sex-as-sin mystique.
We covered up – it was our duty –
not sinful shame, but ancient beauty.
Me fail? I fly! 