While penning another sonnet…

…I began to despair.  But not due to the subject matter therein contained.

No.

It was something about the manner in which I must remain at electronic arm’s length from those to whom I have grown electronically close.

Closeness and separation are not only relative in this strange world of ours, but now have become virtualised as well.  How far is one blog entry from another?  How far is a comment from a post?

How far?

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Sonnet: Taken

Anticipation shaketh down below
Wherefore I shan’t release thee shouldst thou call
Or even beg, as seem thou to prefer.
I feel thee, languid, try my binding crawl

With tense delight enveloping thee slow;
So push and crawl and twist thyself away.
That every moment my delight would stir;
And ripping, take my kill.  And thou:  my prey,

Imagine, over all our blood doth flow,
When deep within thy flesh my talons rake;
And to thy plaintive cry shall not defer
‘Til take my fill of all that I may take.

This predator… no… nary turn around:
Thou knew’st, though he prefer his prey face down!

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Intro 1: Quite A Challenge

If I have my way,
you’ll all know why
I wrote this.
And then,
you’ll also know why
I said it was
quite an intriguing challenge,
if you look closely.

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