~~~ who ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ are ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~ these ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ?
That is right; you heard me. I admit I was wrong. And when I am wrong, I am big enough to admit it, no matter how chagrined I may be: It is just as hard to write a minimalist sonnet as is to write a traditional one. The above took me several hours; and damn hard hours they were, too.
It really was much harder than I expected to figure out where to put the squiggly lines. It is even more difficult to figure out how place the words just right. Here is the method I used:
And who are these who rape my Gods when long
They have returned to ash, and dust, and bone?
No right have these to slash Them, cruelly thrown
And bleeding, from the Heights where They belong.
And who are these ignoble beasts; this throng,
Who mutilate and rape Them, unbeknown,
Then take their turn upon each vacant Throne,
While still They fall, unknowing, from this wrong?
Do these believe their acts are in the right;
As though belief could claim to sanction rape?
Do these take carnal pleasure in the night,
While horrified Their past devoted gape?
Or do these quake with fear, while knowing well,
Their lie alone will have them burn in Hell?
All right…. so you have caught me snark hunting once again. This was taken from a free verse I wrote in the summer of my life. I did not track it down, I took it from my memory, imperfect as such things may be. This was later the subject of a five part sequence which will post next, entitled The Rape of the Masters.
David Emeron: Sonnets 
*snort*
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What can I say? It is hard to resist taking a jab at such things. There is actually a book full of such things as the above. Although I won’t name it or link it here, as I feel it is not worthy of mention.
I originally found this type of thing when doing some early research regarding the style of this site.
I was amazed and to quote myself loosely:
How sweet, if my corrupted friends
would slyly acquiesce
to grant me scanty honours
with an automatic yes.
https://davidemeron.com/tag/waeflhiue-b/
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