Sorry it's so late today, kids. I had an idea knocking around in my head last night, but I couldn't really get it into lines until today. I'm still not happy with it, but when you're over sixteen hours past deadline, you learn to accept these things. And on the off chance that anyone thinks it's about you, you're probably right.
Nights Like These
Nights like these are rare, these nights of peace;
nights like tonight, just sitting by myself.
When all the world is empty, sound asleep,
and all within is quiet. All is well.
The glass of whiskey gives me no release;
the strains of blues don't take me off the shelf.
They're company, they're friends of heavy deep,
But they're not while I smile tonight. I'll tell
you this - alone's the sweetest time for me,
booze and music drowning out the light;
it's not so bad in shadow when you see
that someone's there to make it seem alright.
And yeah, it's just a sense. Might not be true,
but I'll smile tonight, alone, thinking of you.
The Weekly Sonnet is exactly what it sounds like. Every week, there'll be a shiny new sonnet for your perusal; some will be traditional, some will be not so much, some will test the boundaries of what exactly a sonnet is. It's a project, an experiment, and a hobby all rolled into one. All materials published on this page are copyrighted to Warmonger Smurf. If you publish any segment of this site without my permission, I will sneak into your house at night and pee on your toothbrush.
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