In my family, for christmas, we write poems. They go with the presents, and are usually funny, varying in length, occasionally set to music, and supposedly give hints to the gift. This year, as I've been laid off (and am trying to look on the bright side of this happenstance) I have a great deal of time to write these poems, and have decided to play with sonnets some. Since I haven't written a sonnet in forever, and never one that actually followed the traditional uh, format (as in, quatrain, quatrain, quatrain, TURN, couplet) I decided I needed some practice. So I wrote a little piece about masturbation. Why masturbation? Why not. Anyway, it makes me laugh, and I thought it might amuse others
(I should mention, this is a Shakespearean sonnet, because I like the little heroic couplet ending those have.)
In morning as in night, my very own
hand dips beneath the sheets and covers of
this bed- as its squeaks counterpoint my moan
in this sacrilegious song of self love.
There’s no need for another here, no more
arousing could it be, to have my hand
replac’d by one who barely knows the lore
of the clitoris, the “uncharted” land.
How rude the fingers of those who have not,
before now, learn’d the ways to bring a girl
to pleasure. Clumsily they seek the spot
and catching fingers scrape, but miss the pearl.
But still, it might be nice to have someone
to cuddle, when we ended the real fun.
Now, anyone else want to share some terrible poetry they've written?
It's really very fun.