Yes, other poets may choose to compose their verses on the great issues of the day, or agonise over the fundamental questions of human experience. Me, I’m a shallow tosser who wrote a sonnet about my own doodles. Surprise!
(and I don’t even know if this really is a sonnet; don’t those have to be written in iambic pentameter or some such shit? I don’t want to be the fuck who puts one two-syllable word down and calls it a ‘haiku’, after all…)
But for someone as boring as me, they do form an integral part of my existence; the representatives of that 99% of the time when I’m not doing anything useful, even though I really should be.
And because this is one of the most illegible of my poems; behold a typed and slightly edited version, with an illustration of what I mean by ‘snail-knights’, in case there are those of you out there who aren’t familiar with that particular illuminated manuscript trope from the middle ages.
(like that would happen!)
Resolute, one’s purpose keeps the pen in ruled lines;
If only one commits to resolution.
Yet here the ink imagines to branch out in tangled vines,
Resolve’s for those with sterner constitutions–
Than a scribbler slacking off from ticking boxes in Excel;
Solemn sowings given way to tiny stars,
Whose points are blacked in alternately–yes, she does it well;
Like frustration incarnate in paper scars.
Those flowers, skulls and rabbits might not serve to look as grand as
When gilt angels illuminated letters;
Yet kinship of their snail-knights with her wrong-looking pandas,
I see between our stationery’s fetters.
For faithless inspiration moves the heart’s pen when it will;
But the one in my hand’s shackle, struggles to be still.
So there you have it. I think the doodles do deserve their own ode, at the end of the day. What do you think, patterned unicorn rabbit I drew while I was supposed to be working? Patterned unicorn rabbit’s… friend?
Patterned Unicorn Rabbit: I think that soon the world shall be mine!
… Friend: Yessss, masssster.