Thursday, May 9, 2013

Untitled Sonnet



To seize the day to me did Goethe bid,
And fix in rhymes today's fugacious time,
So as to snag in this sonorous grid
Chaotic presentdiscord made to chime.
Inform experience in the poetic
Line: thus a man may mold his self without
Himself, and make his life, from notes so hectic,
Into a songby concord rendered stout.
The truth is that I have no knack to be maestro;
Ten thousand tunes I have so tried to lead,
Yet failed every time. So now I know: though
In shaping me I never will succeed,
   I write such poems from my inner shelf
   So they can be the poets of myself.

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