Today has been one of those lazy, rainy days where all I do is sit around doodling and listening to Hamilton. Pretty fantastic.
And then I remembered… oh, hey, it’s Thursday. Your blog day. And you have nothing. Oh dear.
Twitter tells me, however, that today, the 6th of October, is National Poetry Day in the UK. And I have ancestors from the UK. And posting horrible poems is my usual stop-gap. And I’ve been meaning to try my hand at some “Pop Sonnets” for some of the Hamilton songs for a long time. (If you’ve never heard of Pop Sonnets, by all means click the link. What are you waiting for? Do it now.)
So I mean, it’s like it was meant to be.
Here’s my sonnet interpretation of “Hurricane,” the song in which Alexander Hamilton marr’d his fortune by deciding to publish all the sordid details of his extra-marital affair, thinking that somehow this would be a good idea. (Seriously, Alexander? What happened to that top-notch brain?)
At seventeen, a storm engulfed my town,
Yet I found peace in the hurricane’s eye.
Horrified, I watched my people drown;
And though I tried, I could not seem to die.
The pain was great, but could not dull my mind;
I found a quill, my moving story wound.
When I looked up, I found the strangers kind;
They put me on a ship, for New York bound.
I wrote my land out of the English realm,
And with my pen ploughed through all fierce resistance.
I mind me now, though danger overwhelm,
Throughout my life I’ve written my deliv’rance.
I’ll write it down, as far as I can see;
And thus will I protect my legacy.
So that was fun. Don’t judge it too hard, please; I wrote it in about fifteen minutes flat.