Not A Sonnet Is - Poem by Oskar Hansen
Not A Sonnet
When I was a child I used in winters when windows had frost on
the inside too, paint picture of faces that slowly thawed as
the morning progress to noon. Moody drawings and after some time
I only drew eyes and saw them cry.
Mother thought I was morbid I walked around in a big black shawl put
flour on my face to look pale, I was home from school had
tuberculosis and was of delicate disposition.
From the window I saw other children playing snowball wars, and
thought if i go down there and join them they will all be infected
and die in the most horrible way. When not doing this I read a lot
of books and some poetry I disliked because it was too boastful and
nationalistic, had a little country feel, having read Russian literature
I was discerning; cured now I was allowed back to school again and
since I was not a prodigy preferred snowball wars.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You