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!