Songs and Sonets III

As I said when I started this month, it was 500 words or bust... Or a poem. Really I should have taken advantage of this earlier, as I've lost more than enough days of writing to days in the office like this - not overly busy but just things happening every five minutes, not to mention that damn phone. Add to that Evensong and then going to dinner with the local junior deity tonight, I won't have much time to stick to the schedule I dreamed up so long ago. Instead I offer this. The number at the top is right, by the way, it's not as if you've missed anything...





                                   All's said and done, words count no more,

                                          And sound only contributes emptiness;

                                                 So silence is our best tool to express

                                                        All we feel; speech is a chore,

                                   And even song we find too poor

                                          To tell those secrets, to confess

                                                 The profundity, we dare not address

                                                         In case we're left stood, unsure.

                                   Yet find a place in written word,

                                          As if Ink and Paper saves us

                                                 From prisons of our own minds' making,

                                   Through fact or fiction (both absurd);

                                          Or maybe a poem's not too much fuss,

                                                 Where all life's fancy is for the taking