Charlotte Watkins Poet Sonnet

Sour Grapes

What gratitude is of greater reprise,
Appraisal sought within four wall confines.
Yet tests congure my personal demise,
Subpar intelligence is redefined.
Determined only by pure blood descent,
Whose family heritage dominates.
But haste, why linger, such foul discontent,
Saved from years of unethical debate.
Bitter sweet rejection bore new mercies,
Undrained from society's precedent.
To pursue a life without fallicies,
Devoid of tragic human sentiment.
For now, I delight, reap labour's success.
My life is all mine, to live and to rest.

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Valerie Staton March 6, 2020 at 8:24 AM Nicely written!

Quoth Theraven April 6, 2019 at 11:26 PM I like this poem. Sour grapes..,indeed. -Richard

Gordon Mcconnell October 5, 2018 at 11:53 AM Fine penned piece Charlotte, really good imagery. Well done, Gordon Charlotte Watkins October 8, 2018 at 1:26 PM Thankyou, the first sonnet I have written in my life. I try to allow readers to build their own interpretations/imagery from the poem. - Charlotte

Gayle Rodd September 8, 2018 at 2:31 AM The ever endless call of the dope. I pray for your strength (if this is a true to life poem) to be able to leave it once and for all. I have written several pieces on the subject as an observer. I can't imagine the emotional and physical pull it has but I've experienced it in my loved ones and my heart breaks for them. best of luck ...

Gayle Rodd September 8, 2018 at 2:19 AM I interpreted this to mean the best things are at the end of a journey, perhaps laden with obstacles and pain. Great poem!!