An Apology and a Peace Offering

Fiorella apologizes to musician everywhere. Her afternoon piano practice was  AWFUL! She was missing sharps and flats, using the wrong fingers, reading the score wrong, and blanking out from time to time. Oh, well--there's always tomorrow--hopefully....

Maybe the above was because your girl was going through her filing cabinets, trying to remember and label their contents and, of course, at the same time, beating herself mentally for not having done it earlier.

But, to smooth things over, how about you read this poem, which is quite instructional--another sonnet, of course.

 

 

 

                                              The "Sonnet" Sonnet

A sonnet is the clever use of rhyme

In patterns such as Petrarch might employ

Or Shakespeare's playful whimsy intertwine

For centuries of lovers to enjoy.

A sonnet is an unrelenting beat, 

The blood's intrinsic pulse of weak and strong,

That runs full-tilt for five iambic feet

In three times four plus two, a discipline of song.

A sonnet is a message of the heart

Of Wordsworth's wonder, Milton's heavy hand,

Or Keats's classic skill, of Shelley's art,

Of Browning's love songs from a foreign land.

While others seek the chessboard on a day,

The sonnet is my choice of game to play.