Here is a non-traditional shakespearian / Italian sonnet (octet is shakespearian rhyme scheme; sestet is Italian rhyme scheme, all metrical rules broken). I wrote it about a year ago, after a week of >11 hour days, about about excessive overtime. I liked it enough that I revised it a bit and have even included it in some submission packets (no takers, lol). I thought of it in response to this prompt. Any thoughts on it would be welcome. I'm okay with being told it's not the prize-winning poem I think it might be, lol :)
Letter To A Route Named 2C
—confession of a UPS driver
You curve and dip among redwoods, show me slivers
of Pacific, of San Francisco Bay. Your fog weeps through needles, thick
and wild. Your dogs’ tails wag at gates and I deliver
treats to tongues. Your storms uproot your trees and slick
your driveways muddy. Your long roads curve to dead
ends backdropped by specks of breakers. Your calves slip under
their mamas’ bellies to watch me drive. Your sunset blisters red
among clouds. I love you when you encumber
me with too much of you. When muscles burn
with every stop. When curves darken. When boxes jumble
on shelves like pain. When I punch
the clock at nine at night. I fist bump coworkers who taught me turns
and numbers. Where to park to pick up fallen pieces. I fumble
my love. I love to touch things other hands have touched.
Here is a non-traditional shakespearian / Italian sonnet (octet is shakespearian rhyme scheme; sestet is Italian rhyme scheme, all metrical rules broken). I wrote it about a year ago, after a week of >11 hour days, about about excessive overtime. I liked it enough that I revised it a bit and have even included it in some submission packets (no takers, lol). I thought of it in response to this prompt. Any thoughts on it would be welcome. I'm okay with being told it's not the prize-winning poem I think it might be, lol :)
Letter To A Route Named 2C
—confession of a UPS driver
You curve and dip among redwoods, show me slivers
of Pacific, of San Francisco Bay. Your fog weeps through needles, thick
and wild. Your dogs’ tails wag at gates and I deliver
treats to tongues. Your storms uproot your trees and slick
your driveways muddy. Your long roads curve to dead
ends backdropped by specks of breakers. Your calves slip under
their mamas’ bellies to watch me drive. Your sunset blisters red
among clouds. I love you when you encumber
me with too much of you. When muscles burn
with every stop. When curves darken. When boxes jumble
on shelves like pain. When I punch
the clock at nine at night. I fist bump coworkers who taught me turns
and numbers. Where to park to pick up fallen pieces. I fumble
my love. I love to touch things other hands have touched.