Ode to a plastic bag (or: a sonnet possibly found binned in a Scottish safehouse)
Ode to a plastic bag (or: a sonnet possibly found binned in a Scottish safehouse)
Is this.... TMA fanfic? I think this is TMA fanfic. Don't look at me. I just wanted to practice writing sonnets and needed a subject and my brain immediately said "give me post-lonely Martin Blackwood or give me death" and what can I say. I Do Not Control The Hyperfixation.
Also, yes, I break the sonnet rules at the end (or, well, HOPEFULLY only at the end). Is it laziness? Certainly, but I do have at least one content-related justification for it. Go wild (hint: it has to do with state of mind).
I walk these lonely streets in hope Ill find
Some in-the-moment wonder that says life
Some proof to irrefutably remind
Me of the fact that people here still thrive.
And that the world is not the way it seemed
When willful mist swirled slow before my eyes;
The way it still is sometimes in my dreams
Where all your loving words just sound like lies.
Am I alone again the way I fear?
To my surprise a movement draws my eye
And once again I find that Im still here;
As I begin to laugh until I cry:
A plastic bag majestic in the air
And running after it is you, cursing,
But there.
Reageer (1)
The more I read this, the more I like it. The way his thoughts are floating in the air, with the panic/sadness rising, and then the anchor that pulls him back to Earth... I can really see both of them in the last couplet hehehe
4 jaar geledenAwesome use of form to enhance meaning! <3