As an exercise to help us understand analysing poetry better, my English Literature class was set the task of writing a sonnet in iambic pentameter. Even though this isn’t a book review, I thought I’d share what I wrote for my sonnet:
Ode to Writing
Shuffling scribbled papers as the hands
Tick closer to midnight, scolding drink
Warming my mind, my words. Perfecting plans
Until sound. Love is being on the brink
Of an idea, realising tales can be
Your own. When their craft becomes your own craft
It’s magic. A special power to see
That a word can change into first draft.
I am a sorcerer, my love’s magic
To turn this novel into a classic.
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