Velocity
A sonnet
This poem is my submission for the monthly Symposium of the Soaring Twenties Social Club. This month’s theme is “Speed.”
So fast as in a race, charging ahead
Goes man en masse as one to run and run
Not caring whither but to get ahead
They scrabble, thrash, and gnaw till setting sun.
So slow as if all dead, lazy and dull
Sit those indolent men who all do naught
But sit and stare, inert they lulling mull
And say they like things slow just as you ought.
The rushing mass and lotus crowd both lack
Direction sure, though speed they have both fast
And slow, inertia headlong, no tack
Or weather changing course but holding cast.
Velocity have and direction see
And your own speed will no great matter be.
Form: sonnet
Meter: iambic pentameter
No AI of any kind, generative or otherwise, was used in any way to write this poem.