Poetry Blog by Becky Who

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Recent Comments

Becky Who on Ghazal No. 1 (Fri, 24 Jul 2020 09:28 am)

Vautaw on Ghazal No. 1 (Fri, 24 Jul 2020 02:59 am)

Becky Who on "Devoir anglais" (Wed, 17 Jun 2020 01:25 pm)

Greg Freeman on "Devoir anglais" (Thu, 11 Jun 2020 05:14 pm)

Becky Who on Sonnet No. 2 (Thu, 26 Mar 2020 05:20 pm)

M.C. Newberry on Sonnet No. 2 (Thu, 26 Mar 2020 02:04 pm)

Do.RoThy on Sonnet No. 2 (Thu, 26 Mar 2020 07:20 am)

Vautaw on Sorry for Apologising (Thu, 26 Mar 2020 03:11 am)

Becky Who on Fatigue (Fri, 6 Mar 2020 06:55 pm)

Don Matthews on Fatigue (Fri, 6 Mar 2020 08:40 am)

Ghazal No. 1

Preamble: So I learned about the ghazal form from an amazing Urdu poet over on Instagram, and just had to try it in English. He paid me the greatest compliment by liking it. I guess you can look up the rhyme rules yourself if you're interested... 


Though Cupid did to you direct my love
It seems his aim was not correct, my love

Although my heart to you I freely give,
Affection I do not e...

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"Devoir anglais"

Preamble: I'm an English as second language teacher in Higher Education. In this current period of more-than-doubled workload due to the hurried and inexpert transition to distance learning, this poem was prompted by one unnamed submitted file too many...


Dear student,

You are unique.

You’re the only you in the world. It’s true,

So I understand for you, ...

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Sonnet No. 2

I tried to write a sonnet. I was quite proud of it, but it didn't win.


Engaged since birth against one deadly foe,

A mortal combat all must surely yield,

No clemency or kindness can we know,

No soul alive will leave this battlefield.


The lines of combat proudly crease my face,

My hair turns slowly, unabashed, to gray.

I must accept with honour and good grace,

to b...

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Know something's amiss:
Passing paperclips
Beneath fingertips
Tingle with promise

The ego gone wrong
In fashioning pain
As some kind of game
In guise of being strong

Yet elsewhere bombs fall
Of course we can care
The cowardly dare
To answer the call

False means to atone
For wallowing guilt
At all the blood spilt
That isn't your own

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