NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-Five

Looking Back

When in the chronicle of wasted time

you find my name among past lovers

and think about those open arms

and the empty hearts,

do you best to blame every ill we wrought

on me and me alone.

I will take all those words

and keep them closer than I ever could you.

I’ve been absent for a few days so I’m playing catch up with the NaPoWriMo Prompts. Day Twenty-Five challenged us to write a poem that started with a line from another poem so I’ve taken the first line of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 106 ‘When in the chronicle of wasted time’.

 

NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-Three

So today it is 400 years since Shakespeare’s death. I absolutely adore Shakespeare and have done for a long while.

One of the first dates that the fiancée and I went on was to watch a live screening of Macbeth, directed by and staring Sir  Kenneth Branagh. It was utterly brilliant and the setting they used, a de-consecrated church, really added to the production. I also have the 2015 film version of Macbeath downstairs which I’ve been trying to make time to watch. I think today would probably be a good day for it.

For today’s NaPoWriMo prompt, we have been challenge to write a sonnet. An apt prompt in view of the significance of the day. I have tried writing a sonnet before and it’s not a form that I find very easy. As someone who doesn’t tend to use rhyme much I feel like too much of my focus goes on getting the structure right instead of the poem.

But, I have managed all of the other NaPoWriMo prompts and it is Shakespeare’s birthday. So, I’m going to set the poor man rolling in his grave, with my attempt at a Shakespearian sonnet.

Ten Past Midday – A Sonnet

The hallway clock just stuck ten past midday

yet here I lie still in sheets tossed and creased

wondering what words might have made you stay

and what other women sleeps with my beast.

In your pillow I can still see the shape

of your cheekbone resting against cotton,

eyelashes dark on skin and mouth agape

unaware I was to be forgotten.

Without the heat of you this air feels cold

and I am left reaching for ghosts to hold.