The wheat it rises fast by summer late
Honey yellow melting into rich gold
Yet now, streaking through the swaying barley
Comes ex-P.M. from Euro state of old
Fleeing worldly problems and past mistakes
With childish abandon and youth-lost glee
Surprised, then angry; next, aloud thinks I:
“Well, that’s stained this golden moment for me!”
Somehow, this silly little poem (about former UK Prime Minister Theresa May running through one of the fields of wheat outside my home) felt best suited to the sonnet form (of somewhat loosely – see below).
For context, here is May’s past form, regarding running through fields of wheat.
Please don’t judge my efforts too harshly. It is my first attempt at writing in this form since secondary school (twenty years ago). I most definitely haven’t adhered to the ‘galloping’ rhythm of traditional Iambic Pentameter (5 pairs of syllables per lone, going weak-strong each time). This would have been a strict requirement for stage actors reciting these lines (usually as dialogue) in Elizabethan age plays, most famously those penned by William Shakespeare.
However, I’m not Shakespeare, Marlowe or any sonnet writer of any note, by any stretch – that much should be clear by now! I’m just a bored dad trying to get his youngest child (currently teething) to sleep by taking them out in the buggy for an evening walk…
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