She sailed upon the sea as if to say
That man is only human after all
But all of our ambitions sank away
When nature hit her with its icy wall.
Believed to be a ship beyond compare,
You don't need lifeboats if you'll never sink,
But nature showed us that she doesn't care
And that we're not as great as we might think.
So down she went into the icy deep
A slipping hunk of metal in the night
And all the rich and poor that were asleep,
Were woken in the darkness with their fright.
To see we're only humans and we're fools,
If we don't understand that nature rules.

601 (09.02.2016)

And rip them up from this to number one
And rip them up from number one to this
And rip them up till all the ripping's done
And I no longer hear the sonnets hiss.
It's about time that this time's over now
Just slip away and petter out be gone
And let me get my life back now somehow
And stop me leaning fourteen lines  upon.
So hurry, hurry up draw to a close,
And let these moments of my life be past
And I confess I took an over dose
Of one form but I cannot make it last,
It's been alright fun but thank you sonnet friend
I'd thought perhaps that maybe I would end.

600 (08.02.2014)

And with the starting purpose I've lost touch
So now I do not care how well I write
Nor do I really worry very much
Whether I am here and wrong or right.
My motives have been strange but now they're gone
Funny how some lines are so very short
While others they seem to go on and on
Abort! Abort! Abort! Abort! Abort!
At least there's only one more left to go
I long to see the back of all this waste
And go away and do something to show
That I am not an idiot disgrace.
At last to be away from this and done
And rip them up from this to number one.

599 (07.02.2014)

You might as well try and make people smile
But can that best be done in other ways?
At least it all worked for a little while
But then the sonnets went by in a haze
And I had little care and little mind
To make them all as good as they could be
It's not something that I thought I would find
When I wrote down in sonnet number three
That wealth will come to those who nobly serve
For it came not but I kept on and on
Reaping just what each verse did deserve
And some of them were golden and they shone.
But now it's all a little bit too much,
And with the starting purpose I've lost touch.

598 (06.02.2016)

But it's enough with six hundred and one,
And even as I wrote that down my doubt
Came creeping up again before the sun
And questioned why I wanted to get out.
Imagine, said the voices in me, this:
A book called 'Good & Bad' for all to see
One thousand sonnets there to reminisce
All crafted well, as well as well can be.
And what's the point of stopping in three days
There's no point in not seeing things right through
And even though they're not done for little praise
At least each day you create something new.
We're only on the earth a little while,
You might as well try and make people smile.

597 (05.02.2016)

That as I wrote the words I thought I snored!
Now there's a give away like none before
Poets who act like that should be ignored
Or given matching orders to the door.
But really, really, really I don't care
It's been a fun thing that I had to do 
There were some things l was compelled to share
And writings often caused a tear or two.
But now it's winding down at long, long last
But sonnets they will always be my friend
As each day drifted off into the past
From number one until the very end.
A thousand would have been a lot of fun
But it's enough with six hundred and one.

596 (04.02.2016)

Few of my sonnets did not have their flaws,
I hurried many, making bad mistakes
And looked on them as though my daily chores
Or like they were the root of all headaches.
Perhaps it was a sin to force them out
To write a sonnet when not in the mood
But when there were some things to write about
I did not really feel much like a pseud.
Funny though all those months that now have passed
And all the words I've written that are gone
And only very few of them will last
But nothing really lasts when sun is shone.
So I kept going even when so bored
That as I wrote the words I thought I snored.

595 (03.02.2016)

I'd thought that perhaps I would maybe end
This little sonnet sojourn with a crown,
But sadly there are only six to mend
So I don't really want to let them down.
Or maybe I could do it but one more?
And end this fun with six hundred and one,
That might make these few last ones less a chore
And make them feel more complete when they're done.
So that's decided then a crown it is,
And I'll end in a paltry seven days
No longer to claim I'm a sonnet whizz
But that I wrote some and got little praise.
Although at times I did get some applause,
Few of my sonnets did not have their flaws.

594 (02.02.2016)

To keep this up you'd have to be a fool,
There are so many ways to speak your mind
If ever art was useful as a tool
It should never be forced or twisted blind.
The discipline was fine, see the past tense?
I'm winding down to now try something new
It's no use sitting on a broken fence
As life and time go sailing out of view.
I'm sorry, I know some they have enjoyed,
Reading a new sonnet for every day
But now my skills will better be employed
By trying something more akin to play.
So, soon it will be the last one for now,
And I will drop my quill and take my bow.

593 (01.02.2016)

They strode off down the road and went away
And then we saw them coming back again,
They said that they did not have time to play,
And that the end was obvious and plain.
It was not love that made them slip inside
It was not time that dealt the final blow
There was a reason that they had a guide
And also reasons they refused to go.
We were a team and now we are apart,
It did not take too long for things to fade
We always knew the end would always start
When we began to know what we had made.
Nothing had come to them, nor those they knew,
But simple words were not enough for you.