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Semi-Sonnet on Inspiration

In days of yore I always longed

to be a tortured poet true,

suff'ring, stark 'neath skies of blue,

alone and heartsick, bright yet wronged,

toying with a language pronged

by contrasting Me and You,

and your ever-present crew-

you are by greener pastured thronged

 

Yet solitude can be a friend,

I realized 'neath my Bodhi tree,

and anguish no necessity;

Inspiration has no end.

Melancholy won't wring free

the poetry that time will send. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wanted to write an Italian sonnet in iambic tetrameter. I screwed up the tetrameter by occasionally alternating stressed and unstressed syllables at the beginning of lines, so I suppose one could consider it an experiment with the form. Anyhow, the subject was my question of whether or not I needed to be heartsick and spurned to write, and the conclusion is that pain and inspiration are independent of one another. 

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©17 June 2014 - 3:53am — cruxclaire
17 June 2014 - 4:09pm — Beatnik1979
Beatnik1979's picture

well done

The rhyme and meter are great. perhaps a second look at Stanza 2 line 2. consider ( if you will ) punctuating  "realized" in the same manner as you did 'neath.  Bravo on the insight and knowledge than went into this piece.  Well done!