Escorted to a room, told, “Please wait here.”
“Tomorrow” promised at our meeting place.
Two days elapsed, impatience turned to fear.
No note, no call, you’re gone without a trace.
Because there are no office chairs I pace
in long and curvy paths that overlap.
Each step becomes a wrinkle on my face
until my visage forms a worry map.
I pause but then my toes begin to tap
a tattoo in the silent, sullen room.
The sudden voice is like a thunderclap:
it asks me, “What’s the name?” I’m filled with doom.
Report submitted. Must it look so thin?
Was that the last? When did the end begin?
Wow. That was really powerful. Rule #1 about tattoos: never get the name of a significant other, because of this very thing.
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That’s good tattoo advice.
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I love this especially: “Each step becomes a wrinkle on my face/until my visage forms a worry map”
and those long and curvy overlapping paths are just right for a Spenserian sonnet. 🙂
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Once I figured out how to turn the optional prompt into iambs, I just couldn’t let it go. It had to become a sonnet hell or high water!
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When I attempted my sonnet last week, I had a hard time blending the last two lines into the whole. Yours work beautifully. Nice job.
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I think it seems hard with that last couplet since you can’t rely on rhyme to link the lines to the rest.
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The word “tattoo” brought me back to Edinburgh when drummers played inside the castle and everyone in the city could hear it like a warning. Your attention to sound is so clear in this poem: toes/to tap/tattoo; sudden/sullen/silent.
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Now I wish I were in Edinburgh. It was one of my favorite cities to visit.
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I read and reread this poem. It is powerful for many reasons, most of them mentioned in previous comments. But I’d like to add one more: It doesn’t tell us too much, but let’s us fill in the rest of the story.
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That’s good to know. I felt like I had to leave out so much to keep within the fourteen lines.
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