A Simpleton's Sonnet, would you please comment?

I get it. I liked it. Nice job jc.

I'm not certain if that's the recipe used only by 'simpletons' or perhaps something true of all would-be Sonneteers. I've made my share of indigestible morsels, and know I posted at least one of them last night. Ah me! We should all be tasting the 'grandest confections,' whether they be the sublime sweets of Petrarch's "Canzoniere," Shakespeare's "Sonnets," or Rilke's "Sonnets to Orpheus" (de rigeur, read in German). Whether we choose to go further and, perish the thought, write one, is another matter. Since we are not master chefs, some will enjoy our confections, whilst those of more refined palate will surreptitiously turn the head and disgorge into a napkin. That being said, I liked your sonnet. The metaphor is definitely its strong point, and where the meter falters we are carried forward by the logic and self-deprecating humor of the piece. You have the makings of a master chef if this is your first time in the "Kitchen of Sonnets." Mine are largely undercooked, and I have little hope of ever being declared more than a competent "chef," because the evidence of more than 1,000 misshapen delicacies betrays me. I always serve them with napkins now. LOL

I will show you one of my first, 14 lines of Sturm und Drang written in an hour when I was in high school nearly 40 years ago, and occasionally seeing the light of day here:

What is life, if not a gem of dust compressed

In daedel hands, seeled, with hermetic power

Abloom an instant on a fenneled tower

A diadem of visons opalesced.

What is life, if not a stormy sea

On which, but for the hour, you're set to sail

And quest quixotically to grasp the grail

'Til tritons trumpet, calling home to thee.

What is life, if not the secret of a fateful gift

That once it's opened scourges you with thorn.

And yet, the hand that animates the glove

So cleverly designed to hold and lift

In triumph, tips a laurel-wreathèd horn

And sounds the sorrowing shell to hapless love.

Now I write them in 2-5 minutes, my illusions of immortality long fled in the sobering light of day... napkin please! Thank you for posting your poem.

I once used olive oil to bake a cake for my husband's birthday party...it was about one inch high, so I had to bake another one really fast & stack it on the first one. Gotta tell you, it was probably the best cake I ever baked! Might have been compact from the heaviness of the oil, but it was really, really moist! Funny poem, J.C.! (Susanna has a bakery!)

Yes this could be stirred some more (like 'their' instead of 'the' in L4S3) but I think the point would be lost as the imperfections in the sonnet echo the lament about your cake baking skills.

I wish cakes were emailable, my dear.

I'd bake up the one that I invented for the hell of it:

first angel food, baked, then clumps of devils food

to smash it down, and finally, a layer of red velvet

that looks like blood and top with chocolate cherry bits,

Voila! Hells Angels cake (and I'm not even a biker bit*ch!

Smiles, good morning.

I don't presume to critisize but may have done S 1 L 2

Seemingly something anyone could do,

to read "Seemingly something any can do."

Of course that is assumed, as I am unable

to cook at all, only allowed to set a place at a table.

JC, far from Simpleton, was cute, and, true, less than perfect, but what isn't? There is little no one else could critique in this oh-so subjective world, and you're even open to that!

Did it meet your purpose?

Made me smile...

WRITE ON...^10!

Continue your baking and toss me a cookie. Elegant and confectionery.

Patisserie - Confiserie - J C

JC excellent poem I really love this write , not everyone is perfect ''Hey I wish you could see me making a cake you could sink a Battle ship with it . ... Neely as bad as my poetry ...( I think ) ? lol

thanks I enjoyed your poem :)

Well, when you adopt a role, you sure stick with it, don't you?

Don't worry - you're playing along fine.