Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #46
Twice Folded Manuscripts
by Belinda Roddie
Twice folded manuscripts littered the gray
carpeting in the cramped one bedroom flat,
while Steven, stooped with age, attempted to
scrape words - hardly a final brave hoorah -
with plume sharp as a scalpel, the paper
rummaged like gray matter waiting to be
folded and twice folded and thrice folded
into complex wrinkles well worth the read.
He had no wife to peruse the pages,
no son to give sound critic's eye to the
crude scattering of never-ending winds
of fading whimsy and blackening tone.
The manuscripts twice folded on the floor
were never to be sent out anymore.
by Belinda Roddie
Twice folded manuscripts littered the gray
carpeting in the cramped one bedroom flat,
while Steven, stooped with age, attempted to
scrape words - hardly a final brave hoorah -
with plume sharp as a scalpel, the paper
rummaged like gray matter waiting to be
folded and twice folded and thrice folded
into complex wrinkles well worth the read.
He had no wife to peruse the pages,
no son to give sound critic's eye to the
crude scattering of never-ending winds
of fading whimsy and blackening tone.
The manuscripts twice folded on the floor
were never to be sent out anymore.
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