Caution: Solemnity Ahead

But first...the Grasshopper Cake. Not. So. Much. :) Actually, it was delicious (i was just tempted to write "he was delicious" because now that it has a face it's a little more personable, but that's just too weird), but I messed up the frosting, dumped it on top and watched it slump off leaving behind a thin, sickly-green coating. Rachel, this grasshopper cake is a chocolate cake frosted with peppermint schnapps buttercream (recipe found in Baked! cookbook...it's not their fault it turned out so disappointingly). There was supposed to be a schnapps-choc-ganache, but i decided not to waste any more ingredients. So he...it...got a face instead!

So, for some reason (tiredness?) I felt more like writing a serious poem than a goofy one. Most of my serious poems are sonnets, and this one is, too (basically). I love sonnets. They're comfortable. Not that I always get them "right" of course...this one has some rhythmic issues, but I enjoyed writing it. The best part is always coming up with word combinations, alliteration, just using words in ways you wouldn't normally. It's about the experience of loneliness, of fearing how your sin might alienate you from people--because you're proud, self-righteous and unloving, or because you're just sinful and it's obvious and you might be rejected for it. And you fear the embarassment. At least I do :) Thankfully, there's hope, and even if I continue rowing out to my little island of self-isolation, God is there, too, and will bring me back. To community, to Himself...thank goodness. Here goes:


There are times I am an island, times
Of straightlaced/sin-based solitude (pick one,
Pick two, for prideful saintliness, that
Parody of Virtue--with her belt undone.)
But vice was never comfort on the crags
That plummet seaward straight as naked truth,
Or bending to the biting, salt-sprayed wind
Of this gray land, grown bitterer since youth--
For then I still sought pictures in the clouds,
The last lone rosebud in the thorny briar,
Lived half-naive to frosts and failed loves,
And dared to warm my body by their fire.
Long years have passed, but still I choose to row
To my small island. Why, I'll never know.