// commented out; (stabswithspoon) wrote in moosespresso,
// commented out;

  • Mood:

where the waitress looks concerned, but she never says a word:



Italian Sonnet – abbaabba, cdecde


Long black hair of insidious intent

covering complex stress problems. Walking,

asphyxiating, like a bird, squawking,

angrily into a past of lament-

ations, trapped in velvet dresses, repent-

ing for sins and pretending; and stalking

god. Furiously succeeding, caulking

holes in her life with art to be torment-

ed by society’s view of age,

she’s been ready to be twenty-one since

ninth grade, ready to self-destruct herself

to better pour herself into work. Rage-

ing into the night. But! Love can evince

passion and give direction to itself. 

A Two-September Romance


Spenserian Sonnet – abab, bcbc, cdcd, ee


Yellow and purple post-its hang from walls

and bookcases and the desk in my room,              

reminders of homework,  make me recall

obligations (opportunities) loom-

ing ahead; color the walls like perfume.

Some are sad, reminders of the past, not

the future. They contain moose who presume

to make me smile, but I have forgot-

ten what they mean to me. There are weak spots

in my mind that make me frown, remember-

ing. But now I put these thoughts on hold, trot-

ting past colored visual Septembers.

These post-its are just pieces of paper,

I tear them up – nothing more than vapor. [1]

[1] Alternate ending:  “And as I watch these November colors pass, / I see their hidden value fade at last.”

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