1. Thinking (a sonnet)
Alone in the silence, his clear eyes flash.
His shirt is white, his eyes are clearly blue,
His cigarette burns red, leaving an ash.
His hand is guided by the Nous, the true.
Muse of the Philosopher, guide his hand
Let his mind peak at Aristotle’s “A.”
Lead him through thought’s difficult land,
Show him the first, the only, correct way.
Now an inference, now intuition,
Now two premises brought to conclusion.
Now a guess, but it is carefully done.
Now he sees the end, like viewing the sun.
The joy of writing, the joy of success
The joy of finishing a mental quest.
2. Cheating (a sonnet)
A test spinning in one hundred young heads
Calculus, a difficult and pure class.
It’s filling one hundred young hearts with dreads
Calculus, I hope it kicks not my butt.
The test is scaled - I must beat other kids.
I place two books on the desk to study
Their covers heavy like my tired lids
Their contents so difficult and lovely
My pencil draws numbers in my own hand
Failure looming, my brain has grown a lock
It’s like my head is filled with rocks and sand
Failure looming, up I can only look
My look is caught, my test taken away
And I'm taken from the scholastic fray.