Michael Coy Poet Sonnet

The Adventures of Enea, Part 13 of 13

Word and Thought

And can you say exactly what’s a word?
(Seems easy, but it isn’t!)  It’s a thought
that takes on form: once wraith, it now is wrought,
much in the way that milk morphs into curd
(no Middle East ethnicity inferred).
A word’s a winged idea that’s been caught,
a spirit turning physical.  In short,
an abstract concept which can now be heard.  

Was Pinturicchio a peerless master?
Which of us plies his trade, nor meets complaint?
And what made Caterina such a saint?
Might Joan of Arc, for instance, not outlast her?
Crusades and poetry ain’t for the faint
of heart.  That tart, Art, truckles with disaster.

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Darren White March 20, 2017 at 12:33 PM Wow, I love this, it's more a standalone observation after the facts, isn't it? I LOVE your observations on 'word'. Crusades, poetry, tart, art, truckles. Merely words, concepts, things if you like that we hear and then suddenly assume is truth. Michael Coy March 20, 2017 at 1:19 PM I think this is going to be a long and fruitful friendship, Darren.