Recently, I’ve been trying to persuade my students at Leeds Met to write  sonnets. Mean, eh? Another thing I’ve heard myself exhorting them to do is to make their sonnets ‘of now’ by using today’s language and writing about the subjects of their lives in 2009.

I was managing to resist doing any of this myself – until I stumbled on a website where the author explains how she wrote a sonnet every day for the forty days of Lent.

I love this idea.  It’s barely Lent any more, and I incline more towards Bhuddism than Christianity. But what the hell: here’s my first.


Knives are in the news. But all I’ve bought

on Ebay is a drum, assorted blouses.

I’ve sold a coat, its sleeves a tad too short,

a yoga mat and several pairs of trousers

and now the awning from our ancient camper

‘mice have nibbled bag but NOT the canvas’

itself once bought from karaoke champ, ‘a

star Ebayer, A++++.’

But as I tape the box and code the journey

from LS29 to BT1

I see a thousand parcels cross the country

a thousand get delivered and undone.

How strange. We never see each other’s faces,

but the contents of our lives keep changing places.