What is that which looms on the horizon?
My own response so carefully crafted.
Designs that I have embroidered eyes in
to see my own hand-sewn chaos drafted.
Your stitch-in, flowery language lacks work
and your seams seem to lack proper binding.
My dear, I can't accept mangled patchwork,
it's clear that you needle more reminding.
It's funny how you tailored your response,
yet you didn't know of the fabric's face
that laughed as you fabricate and ensconce
yourself in lies as delicate as lace.
You have barely weaved a good running stitch
Don't curse the seamstress who seems less stressed, witch.
An odd, sleeping beauty/pun/wordplay battle inspired poem that I sent my friend who thought he was being super clever with his words and I thought I show him how it's done. Haha i'm not sure if this follows all the rules of a sonnet, but that was the style I attempted. And witch was originally a cuss word.
This was silly and written without checking.
Ⓒ Tatiana
