I decided to type up one of the poems from my anthology to give a taste of what's involved- The best way to describe what I have so far is "full of anti-sonnets", this poem is from the middle of the anthology and it may not make much sense out of context but it will when and if you read the full thing:
What is it we've come to in youthful naivety,
we've allowed infatuations of a Shakespearian kind,
to rule not heart but body and mind?
Alas, I'm pondering longer and harder,
to be poor Ophelia- what would I rather?
to feel? O reader I ask, to feel
the scars of "love's" dagger upon my heel?
I shall not wonder "where art thou"
for thine art- foul is the bane of manhood,
the fall of Troy at Helen's clutch
the fatality from thine cancerous touch.
Larry R

