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And then, it was done.
Very nice, Arahant.
I’m out of tune with almost all contemporary poetry, but I like yours, Arahant. And I’m not just saying that because you always answer the questions I pester you with.
No, no, not at all. I really like your sonnet, despite its unorthodox rhyme scheme (ABAB CDCD EEEE FF) and a couple of suspicious rhymes (weeks/leak and hospital/at all. You did get that traditional couplet at the end of the four stanza sonnet, though.
But I suppose you young people think that breaking the rules is hep, or boss, or dank — or whatever you young people call it nowadays.
I thought about weeks/leeks, but that would have given a whole different odor to the situation.
He was caught in a trap.
A call back to the Jazz Era?
And, back from Missouri.
Arahant, don’t leave like that. You know I miss your comments when you’re gone.
He’s got like 80000. You can always go back and read the old ones.
He’s right, you know. 80,980 at the moment. But for you, Kent, I’ll tell the rest of my family members they’re just not allowed to die.
The sonnet is poignant but a bit elliptical. Someone who doesn’t follow you online may not know that you were referring to a real, and current moment of pain. I don’t think Kent understood. Good to have you back with us, Arahant.
Kent’s okay, Gary. Just a little back-and-forth.
Arahant, I didn’t know. Sorry.
That’s alright, Kent. Think of it as having one less person in the world who is older than you.