The Geist Jackpine Sonnet Contest is at its halfway point and the entries are rolling in. To make things interesting Geist will post (with permission from the authors) a few submissions to the Geist Jackpine Sonnet Contest for your viewing. Each poem will be posted anonymously and comments on the poem will not be considered in contest judging.
So watch this space to find your muse and then write your own Jackpine Sonnet. The contest closes July 1st, so get writing!
jazz in my left ear, I whisper, I walk, I turn down an empty block to (verb)(subject)(object) of my affection. Patterns from a pattern-maker, one spool for a whipsawed sweater-maker, with jumper cables, to jump-start the alternator. You'll never guess what's in store, you could never imagine what putting God first will do for your eye-complexion, for your kidney floor, for your vexation, for your book report. That's just the way it goes when your prayers are reposed, when your kindness comes exposed, when you've lost your spoon in the soup, and no one's home. I wish for miles and miles of string, to make a cup-based telephone, and spin about in a padded wall alleyway. Indeed, I learned what Alas means (I used to think it: at last) because of you: my furnace, my heart-strings pulled taut, pulled fast, pulled tight.