A Very Rare Poem

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.