Well, I can’t do the volta to a
turn -
it turns up by itself, twirls in at
the start;
it won’t sit in its place, it
will not learn
that timing is the pinnacle of this
art.
It fidgets when I fit it for an
octave
and it won’t agree to wait for
the twelfth;
it will dance when it pleases, I
must waive
all rules, it must decide things
for itself.
I must be submissive, it must
control
the style and metre of stanza and
line.
It’s brash and pushy, grabs the writer’s
role
thrusts me aside, writes out this
life of mine.
Life can’t be a perfect sonnet
for those
whose voltas come in at the start,
or close.I am travelling and will probably be offline more often than I like :) Enjoy the poetry here and in the season/world wherever you are. I will catch up with you as and when I can beg/borrow/get a net connection. Stay well!
And yet this volta,
ReplyDeletethis thing you write
to make one enjoy
the smoothness of lines
it cares not, but does
its own thing until
even you question
which hand held the pen
My muse smiled back at me
And said “see you’re not alone”
That's good the muse smiled! :) always good news, that particular smile..
DeleteIt's the seat of the soul.
ReplyDeleteSafe travels!
Thanks and to you too!
DeleteKeep safe, Nila. Glad you're still posting your magic! Love the rhyming couplet at the end.
ReplyDeleteYou'll love knowing that I am currently teaching poetry to two year levels of seniors. Wallow, wallow, wallow....
Denise :-)
If I could teach, that would be my dream job Denise! Wth, I think it's my dream job anyways :)
DeleteI like the clever way in which you've weaved the 'volta concept' throughout the poem.
ReplyDeleteIt's almost like a rebellious child... eager to do as it pleases.
Love it!