I gave up poetry in 1996. I’d written a great verse telling an ex-boyfriend that I didn’t miss him (lies) and comparing him to fat men in Speedos at the beach. Then I read the verses at an open mic poetry night and when the clapping ended I walked off the stage and away from poetry. Drama which befits the age, I’m told.
As a member of Wordsmith Studio I have been encouraged to try new genres. April is National Poetry Month so here’s my go at it. It’s a sonnet.
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My Lost Sister
When upon this journey we diverge
Know that I will of you often think
And wonder if our roads will merge
Though I climb ever higher and you sink.
I had believed our hands were clasped
In sisterhood and friendship true
And that no theatre which between us passed
Would change what I have meant to you.
A stranger though she wear your shoes
Her words make foreign sounds
To wish away our bond and choose
The lies to which you’re bound.
You bury me, though I still breathe
I shave a scar where I’d begged you not to leave.
