Failed Poet
I remember a dinner party my Mother gave in my pre-teen years: she dressed us three boys as waiters and taught us waiting protocol; she drew a huge city-scape in chalk and hung it on the wall like a window onto downtown Manhattan. In my recollection that mural astonishes me with its competence and beauty
Jacke Wilson: What’s great about a sonnet is not an unusual word or a clever word or a shocking word or a long word or an impressive word—but the perfect word. It may be surprising. It may be all those things that may be unusual. It may be clever. And so on. We don’t want “Moon in June” here, but it’s the word that fits the meaning and the sound and it snaps together tight. That’s what’s pleasing. That’s what gives us a sonnet. What it needs. And sometimes Shakespeare had to invent words for his verse, which is risky, but not when you can pull it off. If you stick to inventions that people will immediately recognize and understand, like those songs that immediately sound like old standards. If you invent a word that people think, oh, that must already be a word. I know what that means. And it’s there for you to use.
via Lit Hub
