Julie’s October Sonnet

Hail to the cliché!

By Julie Leibrich

I woke up one Spring morning with the first verse buzzing round my head and just continued to think of idioms.

Maybe a sonnet has to be serious; maybe not?




I’ve got to see a man about a dog.

He’s not called Jack; he’s not all work, no play.

My life is like a mirror in a fog.

The world’s my oyster. What more can I say?


I’ve got to be footloose and fancy free,

tickle my fancy when and where I want,

be tickled pink, not busy as a bee,

say Bob’s your uncle, not my giddy aunt.


I haven’t room to swing a Cheshire cat.

I’m caught between a hard place and a rock.

I want to knock time into a cocked hat

and tell the clock where it can put a sock.


The knives are out when silly words are uttered.

A poet knows  which side her bread is buttered.


By Julie Leibrich