Words, after all, are not only words

“Words:

Which have no words” ~ Shelley

Not much imagination is required

To start a sonnet.  Find your courage.  Start.

The words and scheme take over.  As desired

They soon possess you like a demon.  Heart

And mind aren’t sovereign.  They are dragged along.

That’s why it’s called possession.  The devil

Fights amongst the scansion, but the pattern’s strong

And helps you, lady-like.  On the level

It restores the beauty like a starlet found

And guided to the Silver Screen of fame.

The pattern helps, though you are not hard bound.

Your freedom fights and helps you make it tame.

  The sonnet is a lion, sleeping, mild

    Inside you but your wand can make it wild.