M.A. Griffiths posted the following poem on 2003-03-19 to the site Burgundy, in response to the Mad March Hairbrain Not-Sonnet Challenge: “Write a sonnet that is not in pent or tet, not iambic, that is not 14 lines, and yet somehow satisfies a form.” Griffiths’ entry was voted the second-prize winner. (No, I did not save the winner.)
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The Blue Geranium
Enchanted by the picture on the label,
I bought the pack. Ah, those blue-eyed blue
flowers, profligate as grass seeds.
When I looked more closely, I could see
pale roots in the dry compost,
fragile as dead babies’ fingers,
pressing against the plastic bag.
You have been neglected, my geranium;
you were prepared, then overlooked.
I slip you gently into a white bowl
to soak in warm water. You are valued
now, loved. Grow, you bugger, grow.
Star my summer with deep blue
and I will feed you, water you, protect
you from slugs and snails, I can do that.
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For me, the idea of sonnet-ness haunts the poem just enough to lend a dollop of gravitas to what I would probably otherwise regard as merely pleasant candyfloss.
I agree with those who say that how the poem benefits from what it does with (or against) the sonnet form is the important thing, rather than a pass-fail grade on whether it meets the technical requirements for sonnethood.
[Cross-posted with Annie.]
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