February 23

Sunday Sonnet


DStan58 here. When my Father died just over a year ago, I started writing poetry. Sonnets, to be exact. The sonnet’s strict form, I discovered, gave me structure that I found comforting. You get 14 lines. 10 syllables per line. The rhymes are ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. Simple,eh? You chose exactly the words that work because you don’t get much chance, later on, to explain yourself.

I’ve been writing & blogging about fatherhood and family, life and death, health and illness, for ten years. Every Sunday, I’ll be sharing a sonnet. Today’s is Sonnet #1. The wooden service plate upon which I posted the poem is from Russian olive that grew on my Dad’s property. He turned it on his lathe.


fatherhood, illness, legacy, sonnets

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