Whimsical words truss up my tongue
While worrying whispers mess with my head
I’ve been trying to master this verse for so long
My failure wishes to pronounce me dead!
In the water, I think I ought to keep going
Who knows where it will lead?
Perhaps the words will start flowing
If I prick myself harder and learn to bleed!
I know I’m no Shakespeare, Auden, or Frost
But I have ideas and a real need to write.
Now I’m finding the words, the battle’s not lost
I’m so close now to winning this fight!
Because these are my words and this, my first Sonnet
Poor as it is, I’m happy to own it!