Random Rhyme and Petty Prose : So Not by Bill Schott |
 Beginning with no thoughts of where to go, this "so not" sonnet sees a couple lines; and that one reader out there reads with woe, as this first stanza stabs like pitchfork tines. Whatever would possess one to go on, to suffer through lethargic lettered verse; there are no cuddly kittens, duck in pond, or weepy women waving at a hearse. But here you are, perusing quatrain three, with some slim hope that there is still a chance, that words will disappear and you'll be free to have your eyes and brains devoured by ants. Here is the couplet that denotes the end; I hope despite it all you are my friend.
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Bill Schott
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