Sonnet In Bondage
My sonnet has the temper of a screaming child
because I'll not allow it to run free and wild
Mired on a pad, it damns me. "I want to fly free!"
"You're not ready," I whisper. "Put your trust in me."
It cried, trying to hold on to its pregnant dreams
blaming me for aborting expressive rhyme schemes
"Ask your muse to find more decorous selections."
On her advice, I began to make corrections.
I purged all the rhetoric and made a new start
resulting in the birth of a sonnet with heart
I danced for freedom I'd granted to my verses
No longer do I hear the yowling of curses
I will continue to write with a pliant quill
and an open mind with the ink I choose to spill
Copyright © Jenna Logan | Year Posted 2021
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