The List

Summary

The poem "The List" reflects on the process of letting go of past desires and accepting the present moment's simplicity and beauty.

Abstract

"The List" is a contemplative sonnet that delves into the theme of relinquishing one's grip on an ever-expanding list of things one no longer wishes to do. The author muses on the natural fading of interests that once seemed paramount, likening their disappearance to evaporating mist absorbed by a forgiving sea. The poem questions whether this shift in priorities signals a loss of vitality or an embrace of a more tranquil, introspective life. The narrator acknowledges the allure of past grand plans and adventures but finds contentment in the immediate surroundings—a room filled with books, notes, and the dance of dust motes in the sunlight. These motes are metaphorically transformed into twinkling stars, symbolizing future potential rather than dwelling on past exploits or regrets.

Opinions

The author appears to have undergone a personal transformation, moving from a life filled with grand ambitions to one of quiet reflection and appreciation for the present.
There is a sense of self-awareness and humor in the portrayal of the self as potentially being seen as unexciting or monotonous due to a change in lifestyle and aspirations.
The poem suggests a peaceful acceptance of aging and the evolving nature of one's desires, with the speaker finding joy in the simple, everyday beauty that surrounds them.
The author invites readers to explore more of their work, indicating a pride and confidence in their sonnets and a desire to share their creative endeavors with a broader audience.

A sonnet for giving up and letting go

That old list — “What- I- Don’t- Want- To- Do” — grows Longer every day. Things that gripped me Once evaporate like forgotten woes, Dissolved by waves in a forgiving sea. Does this dub me dullsville? Flat? Drab as dust? The old babe at the bar with one story — Told so often it’s frangible like rust, Meek and modest yet demanding glory? I had big plans, adventures far away, But now this room, this desk, these books and notes Are the only sights I seize on ev’ry day, Along with those floating specks, the dust motes. Before my eyes, they dance like tiny stars Twinkling on future exploits, not old scars.

If you liked my sonnet, “The List,” please check out my sonnet, “What Remains.” Check out my other Medium sonnets here. You can sign up for emails whenever I publish here, Or get a subscription to Medium that shares half of your membership bucks with me, here.