I see that I am quite remiss, taking
Sonnet and giving it a twist. I read
Sir Francis Bacon’s sharpness rewaking.
Who’s saying what is what, and that’s what's said… ?

Excuse me as I pretend to sonnet
Any poem I feel to be a lesson.
Relearned by one, I cannot stop, the thought
of words I cannot seem to unbegin.

So, here I am in formed sonnet-beauty,
Seen, yet, still abhorred. The rules of poeming
Will not change, because I think, I think, Me,
Therefore I am… A construct of needing.

I’m misunderstood in the freeing. I
Am not that, but, I am that that thinks why…

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 1/16/06