A Short Poem and a Nonet

A Thought
When choosing someone to despise,
People often choose the wise,
for there is no one quite as tart
As a person, who is smart.

A Nonnet

A nonnet is an interesting poem

Some say it's similar to a sonnet

But it's not one; it has more room to roam

And that is why it is called a nonnet.

A sonnet is strict, it has fourteen lines

It also has a couplet at the end

There are many more distinguishing signs

That makes it hard; a nonnet is your friend.

In a nonnet there can be no real rules

A nonnet doesn't have to make any sense

One day they just might teach nonnets at school

Because writing sonnets makes me feel tense.

When you write nonnets you feel like a kid

I'd never write sonnets, but I just did.

The blue is (A poem)

(I wrote this last year, when some of my feelings were unrequited. I know it does not rhyme. Not all my poetry rhymes. While I do mostly rhyming things, I like playing with imagery. So while this one is a bit of a downer, enjoy.)


Clean cut waves made of paper and flowers
Crumbling down, folding in the wind
She is in the belly of the ocean
Its stomach acid dissolves all the pigment in her cheeks
A smile, a laugh, a twisted gesture of approval
She keeps a floating
The water pushes her down
The telephone rings and she answers it
A smiling echo of the museum and art galleries,
Of the cinema and islands drifting in a puddle
The sound of chimes and then a blurry buzz
Back in the water, clawing at the thin waves
A joyful shove, eyes meeting and then retreating
A laugh, a smile, a dew drop of blood
Back in the waves
Tumbling and thrashing
Screaming loudly, silently cursing
Letting go would be simple
Falling back into that warm dark place
But the cold is worth the worry
And the blue is