#6 - The Prophesy

Sometimes it's wise to hide those thoughts away 

But foolish is the man who holds regret.

His mind will wither, trapped by mortal debt, 

Imprisoned by the role he's doomed to play. 

From self-made cell, his heart will seldom stray, 

A life half-lived, his brow is drenched in sweat 

As he perceives some distant, unknown threat.

A threat that creeps still closer with each day. 

And though he bears the weight of every crime, 

He'll barter with the boatman for his soul.

But sharpened knives have cut this thread of time 

And, sinking to the depths, he's swallowed whole. 

Alone, he screams, but no one heeds his call; 

Submerged before the surface breaks his fall.

LM

#5 - Judith Kisses

She walks in beauty still, she walks in grace –

from fable onto canvas. Long I stare:

transfix’d by loaded eye and tumbling hair;

the reckless bloom that paints her stainless face.

I think I want her – she could take her place

beside me as my feet stroll through life’s care.

I think of troubles soothed by skin so fair;

I think of rippling souls, still fringed with lace.

But look beyond, like Huxley, past those folds:

the battle rages – all is background strife –

as, eyes downcast, in either hand she holds

a branch of peace, and yet a fatal knife.

As Holofernes, drunk and dead, would say:

sometimes it’s wise to hide those thoughts away.

AB

#4 - Final Copy

Below the painted boats, and through the dark,

a shadow stumbles, praying for the sun–

some mumbled, pleading call for dawn to come–

but God’s a jester now, and will not hark.

Then whistles sound, and dogs begin to bark:

across the sand, a last despairing run,

a single shout, a single silent gun,

a single lethal bullet finds its mark…

His body sinking slowly to the beach,

with shaking fingers punching at the ‘phone,

that lifetime scoop is just within his reach;

he files his final copy with a groan:

“The Princess lives! Yes, I have seen her face!

She walks in beauty still, she walks in grace…”

RJT

#3 - Photographs & Sharks

A beauty now is all she'll ever be,

forever young until these photos fade

into the remnants of a quaint decade

when girls wore dresses green as mushy peas,

such dreary rooms, a whiff of potpourri,

the summer breaks to Galway Bay, mislaid

moments of love. Fashion has changed, unmade,

her daring style lost to the mythic sea.

A story now is all that will survive,

her frightful jump into the ocean's surge;

perhaps she washed ashore, reborn, alive

in distant lands, perhaps she's still submerged,

her silenced voice now flitting like a shark

below the painted boats and through the dark.

AW

#2 - Typecast

‘Is this the only crown I’ll ever wear?’

This circlet forged by fingers so unclean,

A vapid prize for every Beauty Queen:

This title, filled with promise and despair.

Though she was blessed with beauty (and great hair) 

There comes, with this, a curse that’s seldom seen.

Permitted just to pout and primp and preen;

Her words and thoughts were nothing but hot air.

As every rose in bloom will surely fade,

She too will fade, like sun worn tapestries.

For time’s an inescapable parade,

The only way to fool it is to flee.

With fingers crossed, she jumped into the sea:

A beauty, now, is all she’ll ever be. 

LM

#1 - Uneasy Heads

If I had time, and all the proper tools,

I’d shape myself a crown of stolen gold,

And light all England, with my living doled

For free – and gladly so – by servile fools,

Bedazzled by my band of borrowed jewels.

I’d hoard the nation’s wealth and love, as bold

As brass, and smile a smile that might seem cold,

Until I’m thanking those who made these rules.

Well, luckily for you, I lack the will

And metal scorn to be a king of men;

What little wealth I have is earned by skill –

My supper paid for by the verse I pen.

Composed of insubstantial words and air

Is this, the only crown I’ll ever wear.

AB

28 Sonnets Later II - The Crown

28 Sonnets Later is back! And, like The Godfather Part 2, we’ve added a layer of complexity!

Last February, the four of us took it in turns to write and post a sonnet a day on this little blog. We were so happy with the results that we’ve decided to try it again. This year, however, we’re going to attempt something that (to our knowledge) has not been tried before: we’re going to group-write a crown of sonnets.
What’s a crown of sonnets? It’s simple: the last line of the first sonnet becomes the first line of the second sonnet. The second sonnet’s last line becomes the first line of sonnet three, and so on – until sonnet 28. This last sonnet will take its first line from the end of sonnet 27, and its last line will be the first of sonnet 1. If you’re still confused, don’t worry – you only have to read them. And spread them around on Facebook and Twitter.

Thanks to all those who followed us last year and bought the book – we hope you enjoy the next 28 days and poems as much as we do!