An almost working sonnet.

So basically this was inspired by true events; emphasis on "inspired by". I was at the club, and this really hot guy passed me in the crowd, and though we made eye contact and he was hot as fuck I lacked the courage to engage him. Sucks.

The next day I dashed out a rough draft of an octave for a sonnet on my phone and then had work or class or something so left it at that. Later, I sketched out a sestet in my marble notebook and proceeded to rework that and part of the octave that had bugged me, and reworked and reworked and freewrote and reworked. Eventually the sestet and that latter half of the octave reached a pretty damn satisfactory point, though the octave's part still needs work.

Then I finally transcribed in what I'd dashed up on my phone. Yikes. Kinda way underworked compared to the other stuff I'd been fiddling so much with since I made those notes. All the same I'm going to post the current version including the opening 4 lines from the phone version despite having not gotten to revisit them. They will be in italics. I've included them because they do help introduce things and altogether help form a complete-ish sonnet. At the same time, I've underlined the lines in the sestet I find especially weak and requiring more work. Like, I kinda dislike that word "untryst" but I needed a foot there to make the line pentameter, sooo.....

A Great White swims the undulant crowd.
He makes his way immeasurably slow.
So tall, thick; so broad, strong; his ebb and flow (?)
He pushes through the mass unbowed
He catches my lust, my longing; my gaze, now cowed,
Looks back--still staring, now nearing. I know
His quarry, wanting his hard-sinewed glow,
Shudders at touch but has eyes unproud.
Would that I could turn to him and have hands,
Have lips, have sighs. Would I could be taken--
Be with him or be him. Would that we stood
But a moment magnetic, against spans
Of time and desire--but leaves me shaken,
Untryst. Would that I could: I would, I would. 

In the end, obviously, I'll rework the octave (all of it). I may all but entirely get rid of the current opening as the current second half could kinda make for a neat in medias kinda opening. Which I imagine would probably be pretty edgy and hip and stuff. And you know how much I care about keeping things edgy and hip. Who knows though, I really haven't reflected much on it at all.

Some notes on that draft and others.

A lil while back in posted a draft of a poem. It was a bit rough. Haha.

I've since decided to split the octave from the sestet; they're just too different and I want to develop the ideas in each part more and won't ever have space to as long as they're still conjoined. Makes sense right? Well see how that goes.

I can't remember if I explained this cycle already,  but I'm gonna write a bunch of sonnets and call them The Buttsex Sonnets. Lololol, right? Hopefully.

Basically they will all have something to do with gay stuff, but on a deeper level meditate on themes of love and lust and how they are so easily alloyed with other passions and become something different.

So, like the sonnets that will come from that other one:
The one building off the octave's material will further explore the contempt and judgment and mockery in the first 4 ish lines as the new octave. Then in the sestet it will take from the second half of the original octave: envy. A wish to be as seen and noticed as the "faggot in horizontal stripes", even though it's negative it's still more attention than the speaker feels he gets. I get. Whatever. Either way it's turning that contempt inward; this "gaybra" is actually cute as hell even as tackily dresses and obviously gay, and can probably (or so the speaker surmises) get sex anywhere anytime.

I like the language and tone of the sestet's material; it's idea isn't bad just underdeveloped as it stands. Basically it was replying to the gaybra's obviousness and shit and trying to compensate fro a perceived sense of inferiority.

There's another I'm working. It was inspired by this ridiculously hot guy at the club (yes I do go clubbing. Sometimes.). Basically he was rapturous. Like some magnetic predator sliding through the crowd...and we made eye contact, which he held, he continued to look, stare even, as my badhfulness took hold and I glanced away--only to find each time I glanced back he was still looking. And then he brushed against me and good god....Hot as fuck. But what I'm really excited about is the sestet. I'm using a lot of echoing--specifically "would I could" and stuff--to fey a haunting effect. I can't wait to read it out loud, especially the last line "...would that I could: I would, I would."

But why sonnets? Well originally it became a sort of challenge. I suck at rhyming and struggle with forms and generally write in meters other than pentameter. So I figured I'd challenge myself and it's been pretty interesting. As I've worked on them though a new awareness has taken hold: the conceptual potential of the conceit-volta dynamic. It's dialectic or so shit. So it provides profound possibilities for expressing and exploring specific ideas--especially in a contracted form. Because in order to develop the ideas most fully I need to be concise and creative. So I think this challenge had blossomed into something really interesting.

A draft of things to come.

So I recently got it in my head to write a cycle of sonnets. I'll see about posting some of my meditations regarding concepts/themes/fun times later, but know they're gonna be called The Buttsex Sonnets. Yup. It's a thing.

In fact here's a draft of the first sonnet. More textual/author's notes after the verse for those interested.

There's a faggot in horizontal stripes.
See! Lolls his head; flaps about at the wrists;
And wags his hips, and--oh--so sweetly lisps.
By this and these we know these types.
I'm sure if he saw me, he'd think likewise
In stereotypes: we all have our nitch.
O, to be noticed by this little bitch
Or anyone--to feel as cute--would be nice.
Catch me a fairy, hark, hail me a sprite!
Tear off his wings, his weeds, his airs, and thrust
Deep and unbidden. I'll show you what lurks
Beneath assumptions, between soul and sight:
I have as much machismo, I trust,
As much I must, as you your flippant quirks.

Sooo, yeah, there's that. I've already made notes for revisions and restructurings (mostly regarding lines 4 - 7 and chunks of the sestet, which I consider somewhat useless and weak sections right now), but this is the original (complete) draft. We could even call it the first draft.