My Sonnet Wants to Be on Vellum
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
I know it’s nigh to blasphemy, but still
It’s true: my focus on the form I use
Is like obsessions of the monkish quill
And brush that in their holiness refuse
Temptations that surround the Book of Kells,
Les Très Riches Heures, and other perfect art
That trumps religion. Even gold-weight bells
Of Prime that try to set its prayers apart
Are not as strict as what I have to be
To take my composition forward, fraught
And sacred as it wants to burn, not free,
No, never turning from a freedom thought.
Perfections trapped in every perfect saint
Would twist and knot in gold and honeyed paint.
~ Phillip Whidden
by phillipw | Mar 5, 2025 | Uncategorized |