The Unfinished Sonnet
a collaborative poetry project
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| Image by Nenad Stojkovic (CC licence 2.0) |
Unfinished Sonnet
by Ros WoolnerShe thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze…
These two and a half lines appear in Earth Walker (Offa’s Press 2023) and every time I read them at an event, I challenge people to finish the sonnet. There are a few rules: finished poems must have 14 lines but do not necessarily need to rhyme or follow the traditional sonnet form. And poets must be happy to put their names to what they write (nothing obscene or offensive, please).
Since May 2023, I have received 22 finished sonnets and have been delighted and astonished by the range of responses. Who are these two characters? What is their relationship? What is it that he wants and she doesn't want? This is not nearly as clear-cut as I imagined! Where are they? Do they manage to resolve their differences and, if not, who prevails? Are there consequences? It turns out you can say an awful lot in 14 lines.
You can read all 22 finished sonnets below, but there is room for more. Why not have a go yourself? There is a link to my email address at the bottom of the About me page.
MARTIN UNDERWOOD
She thinks she’s firm, says “Sorry, not tonight.”
And he thinks, “Cool. She just needs softening up
Like plasticine. A little squeeze but not too tight
‘Sorry’ isn’t ‘No’. I’ll soon be through.”
But in her mind she’s adamant. ‘I told you
Keep your hands off. I’m not in the mood.’
But he doesn’t see, being always for it -
Thinks quite the other way, that black is white, -
Is sure her ‘No’ means ‘Yes’. Tonight’s the night!
And she thinks she loves him, though he’s an idiot
And always crass. Now he’s turned off the light!
This story’s old and hasn’t changed a lot.
For after all, they’re only girl and boy -
And thus were burnt the topless towers of Troy.
Martin Underwood is Secretary and Treasurer of Cannon Poets and a regular contributor to The Cannon's Mouth. You can read more of his poems on the Cannon Poets website.
PAUL FRANCIS
She thinks she’s firm. Says, Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze…that’s right.
He can’t believe that he’s been sold a pup
in paying for this expensive evening meal.
It’s going the way he planned it, all on track.
He loves the way Chianti makes him feel
relaxed but sexy. And she’s smiling back
which means she’s up for it. He’s good to go,
but doesn’t read her signals. In his head
they’ll sleep together. It’ll be a shock
for him to register that No means No;
this chapter doesn’t end with them in bed.
Her plasticine’s transformed to solid rock.
Paul Francis has written hundreds of sonnets and has published 50 of them in a book of Sonnets with Notes. You can read more of his poems on his website.
Interpreting skills
LIZ PARKES
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze, a little heat.
A stroke along the length of spine a quick peck
to show no hard feelings, no need to fight.
Spoons her back, finds the heavy breast to cup
wiggles his toes between her knotted feet
murmurs guttural smut into her neck.
He thinks erogenous zones, a subtle slip
to unwind tension, soothe away the stress,
he has an itch to scratch, his mates say best
remember she’s frustrated – Now she is, chews her lip
regrets the late night, the low-cut dress,
the drinks that blur the lines between no and yes.
Liz Parkes is a member of Border Poets and Bilston Writers. You can read another of her sonnets on the Border Poets website.
The Unfinished Gambit
JAMES PURCHASE
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs warming up
– like plasticine. A little squeeze … so slight
will soon have her drinking from love’s shared cup.
A shrug she now throws, forcing hand from breast.
He smiles in the darkness to kiss her neck.
She, twisting her head from his beery breath,
pulling tight the duvet, his move she checks.
Ah hah! he thinks. So now the game’s afoot.
He moves his pawn to seal his queen’s fair fate.
To ignore her lust she is now hard put.
Though tired, turns in … to enjoy sweet checkmate.
The six pint love potion that stirred her deep
is the draught that now sends her man to sleep!
Storms At Sea
ROD DUNGATE
He thinks he’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
The other thinks: Cool. He just needs softening up –
like plasticine. So a little squeeze - all’s differently firm.
Oh, says the first, you turn me on all right.
The second, Tom, grins, a Cheshire cat,
while Roger, slowly wakes, uncoils, submits
to his love, who loves to unleash an awful storm
a hurricane, how Roger loves all that.
Tom’s become a raging storm at sea,
and Roger, a boat, on mighty waves he’s tossed.
with moans, and shouts, and groans of certain death,
which comes, as Tom’s great storm blows out; they’re free.
Tom now spent, is calm, he sleeps, but then
the Roger-cat leaps: Come take me to sea again.
You can read more about Rod Dungate and his writing on his website.
Plasticine
MARION COCKIN
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
James thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze might do.
Her lovely thighs are firm but very cold.
They make him think of winter days at school –
how long it took to warm up plasticine.
Kevin Jones chewed his up to make it move,
the masticated mess was quickly binned.
Jane made red bombs and threw them in the air.
James made pink cannonballs and war was waged.
Kathy made a purple ring for him to wear,
and announced to the class, ‘We are engaged’.
In the bedroom now Kathy’s changed her mind -
James sleeps and snores and dreams of plasticine.
You can read more of Marion Cockin's poems in The Nailmakers' Daughters and in her pamphlet, The Wednesbury Mangle Theory, both available from Offa's Press.
The Visit
CHERRY DOYLE
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze, she might
come round, agree. He offers her a cup
of tea just how she likes it, pale and thick
and sweet. She turns away to watch the birds
outside her window feed their desperate chicks.
He heads into the corridor, the herds
of bustling nurses, to the drinks machine.
She’s restless in the sterile, lumpy bed.
The doctor catches him outside: She seems
to be reacting badly to these meds.
Okay my love, tomorrow then, at four.
The tears come quickly as he shuts the door.
You can find out more about Cherry Doyle on her website. Her pamphlet September and full collection The Taste of Rain are available from Offa's Press.
GRAHAM HYGATE
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up
like plasticine. A little squeeze, that’s all.
How many times must this scene be played out?
So let me get that straight, her words were ‘not
tonight’. He nods. You must say yes or no.
He mumbles and then says it clearly, yes.
The panelled courtroom walls seem to recede.
Two jurors exchange glances, someone shouts.
A thud. Then ‘Order’. Suddenly she feels
confusion, nausea, guilt, I can’t go through
with this. She lifts her head up from her hands.
The world has changed. This wrong no longer hers
to carry. He looks down and she’ll walk free.
JANET CHAND
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze…
Her inner voice screams Stop this sleaze!
I know what you've done, where you've been.
Neither faithful nor true. The monster that lurks inside
I've seen. All my dreams are crushed. I must start anew.
When I am brave enough to finish with you.
The words in my brain spin…eloquently spoken,
How can I utter what can’t be spoken?
I pray for the morning and strength to be me.
Instead of the person that I've come to be.
Awfully quiet I gather my strength to say
I don't need you. And walk away.
ROGER NOONS
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up -
like plasticine. A little squeeze, a peck,
my fingertips drawn slowly down her neck;
whispering the words of our song will bring
a smile. She will have second thoughts; relent.
He thinks I’ll change my mind, succumb to charm,
but not this time. I’ve no mood for sorrow,
no desire to voice pain and suffering.
I rue his blindness, but reading aloud
one more chapter from Les Misérables
on this anniversary of our loss,
would drive me beyond the vows I once made;
increase the horror of that winter’s night.
TERESA HEEKS
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze, a cup,
of Rhenish wine, delicate, soft and light,
then, this time, I’ll get my great work right,
sex-teased, I’ll say, wait, I’m on the cusp,
don’t interrupt, dear, remember you just must
wait for my climax, see, it’s there, in sight…
She sighs, Gott in Himmel, here we go again,
when will womankind ever be free
from the importunate demands of men;
rampaging, self-obsessed, all me, me, me.
Please pleasure yourself, for once, and then
terminate your Unfinished Symphony!
A Seduction Sonnet
BRIAN TITTON
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze.
She’ll be his for the making.
He knows, so well, the touch of his hand
sends an electric pulse right through her.
She feels so grand.
Her lips so red, he can’t resist.
Just one soft kiss, she’ll crumble tonight.
And so it is – wrong man, right woman.
And so it is – wrong love, wrong sex.
Months later – she’s deserted, so desolate.
Unwanted woman, unwanted child,
While he merely waits to soften up another.
KARA HUGHES
She thinks she’s firm. Says ‘Sorry. Not tonight.’
And he thinks, Cool. She just needs softening up
Like plasticine. A little squeeze, get her tight
She’ll open up. Then she’ll be so easy to bed
But as he reaches out to pull her close,
Brush his lips with hers, ignite the passion
He’s certain he feels in that soft warm flesh,
She stiffens, her face stilling to a mask.
No. She says. Not tonight. And tries
To step away, but he grips her arms
Holds her in place, smile whiter than a shark’s
She defiantly stares him down, her hand drops
To grasp and twist the tumescent mound
Pain clouds his vision as he crumples to the ground.
JOHN SEWELL
She thinks she's firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up,
like Plasticine. A little squeeze . . . Next thing,
she's putting on his socks for him, his shoes,
puts up with everything he wants to do
in bed - with whoever else he chooses.
He hacks her emails, snoops in on her calls.
Mandates her every move. Total control.
More fool her. I told her, if you marry
make it a renewable commitment.
Reset fresh boundaries every five years.
Keep the heart on its toes before you say
Yes. More of what we have will be ideal.
Or No chance. Never in a million years.
You can find out more about John Sewell on the Border Poets website. His poetry pamphlet Hokusai's Passion - 36 Glimpses of Skiddaw is available from Offa's Press.
DAVID BINGHAM
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze … not too tight,
then later, after coitus, we might sup
a cup of bargain sauvignon from Tesco.
But she, on finding that he’s a cheapskate,
sees it’s best to stay strictly al fresco
and avoid the bedroom on their first date.
Such is the fate of those who meet online
and whose tweets conceal their true intent.
Smoke signals would provide a clearer sign
or semaphore to show what’s really meant.
Though always, emotion is expressed much better
in pen and ink, in a passionate love letter.
You can find out more about David Bingham on the Bridgnorth Writers website. His poetry collection The Chatter of Crows is available from Offa's Press.
KATE GILBERT
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up,
Like plasticine. A little squeeze, enough
To get her purring yes and holding tight.
So she lies still and thinks of bathroom lights
And school shoes and the holiday in Wales
And muses on the differences twixt males
And females in the business of the night.
When morning throws them both out of the bed
And kids are bundled grumpy off to school
She falls to counting years that lie ahead.
Oh how sweet passion blows from hot to cool!
And realises, in their duel of give and take,
His love is real, but hers alas is fake.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up,
Like plasticine. A little squeeze, enough
To get her purring yes and holding tight.
So she lies still and thinks of bathroom lights
And school shoes and the holiday in Wales
And muses on the differences twixt males
And females in the business of the night.
When morning throws them both out of the bed
And kids are bundled grumpy off to school
She falls to counting years that lie ahead.
Oh how sweet passion blows from hot to cool!
And realises, in their duel of give and take,
His love is real, but hers alas is fake.
Kate is an inveterate dabbler who lives in Wolverhampton and dreams of the perfect allotment.
Unfinished Business
PETER HILL
She thinks she’s firm. Says, Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
Like plasticine. A little squeeze, that’s right…
Or maybe Horlicks in her favourite cup
Would calm her down and modify her mood?
But she is adamant; says, it’s not fair;
He’s sat there all night long expecting food,
Relaxed with glass at hand in favourite chair,
Watching grown men who kick a ball around,
While I pack school bags, ready for next day…
Queen of the kitchen sink…yet still uncrowned…
The day is done I’m ready for some play.
I’m powdered, perfumed… passion all aflame.
HE WANTS TO WATCH SOME AUSSIE CRICKET GAME!
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
Like plasticine. A little squeeze, that’s right…
Or maybe Horlicks in her favourite cup
Would calm her down and modify her mood?
But she is adamant; says, it’s not fair;
He’s sat there all night long expecting food,
Relaxed with glass at hand in favourite chair,
Watching grown men who kick a ball around,
While I pack school bags, ready for next day…
Queen of the kitchen sink…yet still uncrowned…
The day is done I’m ready for some play.
I’m powdered, perfumed… passion all aflame.
HE WANTS TO WATCH SOME AUSSIE CRICKET GAME!
FRASER SCOTT
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up -
like plasticine. A little squeeze, a light
peck on the cheek. A glass of cider, or cup
of hot chocolate laced with a drop of rum
should help bring her round to my way of thinking.
I’m scoring brownie points, and what I’ve done
today earns me the "right". While she’s drinking
her chosen beverage, I’ll plant a seed -
if you really don’t feel like cooking tonight
we could get a take away. It’ll feed
us and the kids. She says, I don’t want a fight,
but I don’t want Maccies, or curry and rice.
I want chicken in a blend of herb and spice.
You can read more of Fraser's poems in New Voices, an anthology of new poets from the West Midlands published by Offa's Press.
Deconstruction
KATHRYN ANNA MARSHALL
She thinks she’s firm. Says sorry, not tonight.
And she thinks cool. She just needs a little softening up
like plasticine. A little squeeze of hope, of light
of reason to disrupt
this never normal, now enforced.
Maybe if she tries much harder
pushes, pushes, pushes more
breaks the chains of buoy and harbour?
Up an out and at ’em gel
there’s no good done in giving in.
Fear of missing out is hell,
fear of living slithers in.
The Body screams another tune, rewrites her protest song,
plasticine is what she is, squashed up till the colour’s gone.
KATHRYN ANNA MARSHALL
She thinks she’s firm. Says sorry, not tonight.
And she thinks cool. She just needs a little softening up
like plasticine. A little squeeze of hope, of light
of reason to disrupt
this never normal, now enforced.
Maybe if she tries much harder
pushes, pushes, pushes more
breaks the chains of buoy and harbour?
Up an out and at ’em gel
there’s no good done in giving in.
Fear of missing out is hell,
fear of living slithers in.
The Body screams another tune, rewrites her protest song,
plasticine is what she is, squashed up till the colour’s gone.
You can find Kathryn Anna Marshall on her website and on Substack.
FRAN GAIDIES
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze…and hold her tight.
He looks at her, and doesn’t see what he thought he would.
Only a light smile and the offer of a drink.
She may be regretful…and then maybe not.
He’s puzzled…too many “sorries” in this pot.
He knows he was never one to be played…
even though he was always asked to stay.
As for her, she knows this hesitancy
will shake things up…and that’s all right.
She thought she cared. But more and more
the things they shared were not her best.
And she had always known she would not settle just for less.
Fran Gaidies lives in Virginia, USA
A Silent Night...
CARMEN AND MANISH POPAT-SZABRIES
She thinks she’s firm. Says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up –
like plasticine. A little squeeze. That’s right.
So he pretends to sleep; she gently fluffs
his hair across his brow; he sniffs his nose.
She leaves; he opens up one eye to check.
Just count to ten then on his tippy-toes
downstairs before he gets it in the neck.
And when she finds him looming in the lounge,
his hands around the present, looking sly,
She sweeps the air palm down – the No resounds –
He points to his left shoulder asking Why?
But it’s my birthday, mum, I’m turning eight.
She says It’s five to twelve, you’ll have to wait.
Carmen and Manish live together happily in Birmingham, UK
Ex Machina
NICK WATERFIELD
NICK WATERFIELD
She thinks she’s firm, says Sorry, not tonight.
And he thinks Cool. She just needs softening up -
like plasticine. A little squeeze, a drop
of lubrication that’ll see her right.
No need to cut up rough, I’ll be polite,
make out that she’s my equal, not some slap
I’ve bought to heed my will - and hardly cheap!
He fails to note the glimmer in her sight.
She shakes her head: To him I’m just a doll,
so trapped within his flesh he can’t begin
to see the world as I, its grand design,
the play of love and light. It’s pitiful,
but he and all his kind are doomed to fall -
There’s steel, not bone beneath this plastic skin.
