#1070093 added April 29, 2024 at 9:13am Restrictions: None
Week 40! Petrarchan
Warning! Nonsense Ahead!
I'm writing a silly poem;
There's no rhyme or reason.
No form, nor no season -
Like parting hair with a comb.
My mind will often roam
Do not count this as treason;
In this nonsensical region -
What say they? When in Rome...
Yes, my mind does wander,
And my muse is quiet;
I will occasionally flounder,
And the words then run riot.
If by then, my muse, I've not found her,
I will then blame the climate.
The Petrarchan sonnet, perfected by the Italian poet Petrarch,
divides the 14 lines into two sections:
an eight-line stanza (octave) rhyming ABBAABBA,
and a six-line stanza (sestet) rhyming CDCDCD or CDECDE.
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