It’s November, and once again, while all over the world people with stamina take on NaNoWriMo, I’m setting myself the modest goal of 14 sonnets in the month – LoSoRhyMo (Local Sonnet Rhyming Month). Actually, I’ve discovered that the 14-line form I’m enaoured of, the Onegin Stanza, isn’t a sonnet properly speaking, but I’ll keep the name for the project rather than opting for the even less euphonious LoSoOnStaMo. It’s my blog and words will mean whatever I want them to mean.
To kick off the month, here are some hasty lines about The Butler, Lee (‘Precious’) Daniels’ movie featuring Forest Whitaker (brilliant), Oprah Winfrey (also brilliant) and half a dozen big names in cameos (I especially liked Alan Rickman as Ronald Reagan):
Sonnet 1: A night at the movies
A tiny audience saw The Butler
screened at the Chauvel last night:
a history lesson – I’ve had subtler –
meant for us, as we are white.
Rape, murder, and a double lynching
in living memory, with no flinching
from those in power, and then the fights:
bombs, burning crosses – civil rights,
Panthers, afros, ‘Nam. The lazy
eye of Forest Whitaker, who serves
eight presidents deadpan, observes
with anguish. Though Miss Daisy
would have liked him, here’s the thing:
he wasn’t dissed by Doctor King.