Andrew Fairchild Poet Sonnet

Sonnet 61 'There Is a Desperate Bent In Men Who Lose'

There is a desperate bent in Men who lose,
A silent howl that seeks the lie to prove,
That She Loved Him, who otherwise did choose,
And shunned him! Seek with teaspoon seas to move,
And you, my friend, my silent fool, my boy
Will suffer for your faith, for ‘twas ill-placed.
Why can you not believe?  Why must you toy
With fantasies?  The calms with which you’re graced
Must be your roadstead now – your sails repair!
Pound in the caulk!  Reseat the mast and cast
Anchor!  From storms rest, now the way is fair!
From hopes to ropes and rigging!  Sail on past!
She loved well as she could, but did not want
You!  Fool!  Let past be passed, hopes no more taunt!

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Caren Krutsinger January 5, 2020 at 3:03 AM I love the pirate language you have used to make this poem sail away! Andrew Fairchild January 5, 2020 at 3:11 AM Thanks! I actually just recently learned the word 'roadstead', and have always wanted to use it in a poem. The other words followed after!