The We Write Poems http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/ prompt #47 is ‘Musty Minutes.’
Nothing impossible about that prompt, huh? Actually, it appeared to be until I thought of ‘minutes’ like the minutes taken during a meeting. Then it all came together . . . kind of. Well, it has been a while since I’ve angered Shakespeare with a sloppy sonnet, so . . . .
by Mike Patrick
The musty minutes, now inscribed upon
the beating diary of my broken heart,
record each thoughtless, angry word thereon,
and mark the end of love’s once happy start.
Those musty minutes, once embraced as times
of love’s great strength, became a faded page
of scribbled, misdirected, tangled lines;
exalted on a sheet now cracked with age.
Would time allow another chance to write
corrections to my twisted, flighty verse?
Or have the musty minutes earned the right
to stand, and make my life a witch’s curse?
In desperation, now I find I stand,
a dreamer, with eraser poised at hand.