It’s the end of November, and with this post I’m filling my quota of 14 sonnets. I know that’s trivial compared with the 50 000 words that NaNoWriMoers manage, but I’m pleased with myself anyhow.
This one takes off from a comment the Art Student made as we were walking in beautiful autumn sunshine. The ‘she’ in what follows bears only incidental resemblance to any persons living or dead.
Sonnet 14: On gloom and doom
She sees blue sky and dreads the rain
it bodes. She hardly draws a breath
of pleasure without fearing pain
and nothing rhymes with ‘breath’ but ‘death’
or crystal meth which, failing guns
or cars or flame, will kill her sons.
And if she takes the wider view
there’s war and global warming, eu-
ro in trouble, AIDS, blind greed.
She knew that Rudd would disappoint,
thinks Abbott soon will run the joint
and make the very cosmos bleed.
But then, although she’s mostly right,
she won’t give up without a fight.
This was heading for some kind of variation on ‘seize the day’, but when I had 11 lines done, I read them to the Art Student, and she suggested the final couplet pretty much as it is here. How could I resist?
It may be no coincidence that as I type this the rain is bucketing down, and we’re sitting in a warm room watching the gum trees’ branches outside wave and bow in response.
Next year I might see if I can persuade some hardy souls to join me in this venture …