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Beware leak-bearing lips. A fresh career
can launch post-augmentation. On its face,
the contours of a paralytic sneer
seem comically benign. Yet there's a case

for flouting phony pouting. Why deface
time's stark imprimatur, its ageless knack
for running looks aground? We can't go back.
Nor can injected toxins halt the race.

Worse still, the gains --ostensibly skin-deep--
can turn cosmetic purpose on its head
should botulism start a covert creep.
What use are luscious lips to one who's dead?

We pay lip service to the grace of age.
Then pay the surgeon not to turn the page.

Copyright 2009, Norman Ball

WoW! Well done, Norman Ball! Not that we'll ever find it hanging in a plastic surgeon's office . Perhaps, it oughta get a reading during the consultation process, though .

I just listened to a segment on NPR re: augmentation this morning.


~ Lizzy

Hello Norm, nice to see you. Thanks for posting your sonnet.

You really made me smile - which you shouldn't do because it causes lines and creases.
It's so true though, we always speak of growing old gracefully but seem to have such a fear of it. I love soft lines on somebodies else's face but on my own is a different story.

Norman, (if your still around) what style of sonnet is this and do you have a favourite style to write in?

. . . . . . . . . . . . came back after reading some more examples - I think it's an Shakespearean sonnet as it contains 3 quatrains and a couplet

all the best,

cate

p.s. I'm going to post a link from Mats sonnet thread to this one.

Norman, how about posting this sonnet on the “Sonnets and Sonneteers wanted” thread? I would just slip it across, but this would not be good manners, I suppose.
I have given it (what I assume is) a traditional layout. But of course, it is just a sugestion.
I will comment on it too, soon.
Regards, Mat.

Beware leak-bearing lips.

Beware leak-bearing lips. A fresh career
can launch post-augmentation. On its face,
the contours of a paralytic sneer
seem comically benign. Yet there's a case
for flouting phony pouting. Why deface
time's stark imprimatur, its ageless knack
for running looks aground? We can't go back.
Nor can injected toxins halt the race.
Worse still, the gains --ostensibly skin-deep--
can turn cosmetic purpose on its head
should botulism start a covert creep.
What use are luscious lips to one who's dead?
We pay lip service to the grace of age.
Then pay the surgeon not to turn the page.

Copyright 2009, Norman Ball

Hi Mat:

I think Cate was nice enough to post a link over there already. But you're welcome to carry it over however you see fit.

thanks and take care
norm