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Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Chapters of the Sophist

In a state of soliloquy she stood,
A pen and a paper set on the rubber wood..
A sonnet gathered in her mind
to be written in bold, white and grey..

The cast of clouds above watched
with abomination as a sophist stood
with false arguments presented in
slow eroding tension.

A solecism formed in her mind of
solemn appraisal,
What of the fate of the sonnet that
reached the peak of heights,
For none can write of the bargains
that the glum world begets to hide,
And none can read the chapters of
the tricksters that see with charred
reverent hides.

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