Michael Coy Poet Sonnet

Dolce Far Niente

The thing I must do’s just the thing I can’t.
It’s my artistic nature, I suppose.
Impatient, volatile and – heaven knows –
disposed to overthrow, subvert, supplant,
less drawn to things that are than those that aren’t.
A deft, exquisite ode trumps plodding prose;
four hours of labour, twenty of repose.
An acquerello, limber, quick, you’ll grant
is more attractive than your slippery oils,
since easier to manipulate.  You see,
I’m not the turgid type that, tortured, toils
for excellence unshaped, illusory.
I’ll take it if it surges, fizzles, boils
and masters me.  If not, I’ll let it be.

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Darren White March 5, 2017 at 11:23 AM I understand that completely. I once undertook the challenge of learning to code, only to find out I just don't understand that AT.ALL... and I ploughed on for a while haha. I love all the sophisticated words you are using here,don't get sizzled, fizzled and boiled though. Michael Coy March 5, 2017 at 11:56 AM LOL The poem is written from the first-person point of view of Dante Gabriel Rossetti (though I daresay there's a little of me in there, too).