Under the Awning - by Dr. W. D. Isdell

This piece is a modernized Petrarchan sonnet, or a 14-line poem written in iambic pentameter with a very specific rhyme scheme. I call it "modernized" because traditional Petrarchan sonnets are about love, beauty and all that other flighty nonsense. This one's about linoleum flooring. (All right, just a little bit.)

It was written for a class I took recently and submitted as part of my final project. (I got an A.) In case you're wondering, no, I don't turn these poems out by the handful. Sonnets are difficult to write and sometimes make me sweat, grind my teeth or speak in tongues. But the payoff is well worth the reduction in life-span. They're satisfying, in a masochistic sort of way, and that's why I do them.

"Under the Awning"
by W.D. Isdell

I lie in bed, and hear the storm begin
To build in power, blasting pellet rain
Against the awnings, walls, and windowpanes,
And echo on linoleum within.
The torrent pours, as if it swept my skin,
Across the shingles, lifting asphalt grain
Through the metal gutters, down the drain,
And into where the blameless grass had been.
Outside, the rain is hardening to ice,
Beleaguered roadways groan, buried deep.
This pounding piece is only the reprise
Of storms that came in symphony last week.
I listen to this drumming lullaby,
Then turn and let it carry me to sleep.

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