House
I
Shall I sonnet-sing you about myself?
Do I live in a house you would like to see?
Is it scant of gear, has it store of pelf?
"Unlock my heart with a sonnet-key?"
II
Invite the world, as my betters have done?
"Take notice: this building remains on view,
Its suites of reception every one,
Its private apartment and bedroom too;
III
"For a ticket, apply to the Publisher."
No: thanking the public I must decline.
A peep through my window, if folk prefer;
But, please you, no foot over threshold of mine!
IV
I have mixed with a crowd and heard free talk
In a foreign land where an earthquake chanced;
And a house stood gaping, nought to balk
Man's eye wherever he gazed or glanced.
V
The whole of the frontage shaven sheer,
The inside gaped: exposed to day,
Right and wrong and common and queer,
Bare, as the palm of your hand, it lay.
VI
The owner? Oh, he had been crushed, no doubt!
"Odd tables and chairs for a man of wealth!
What a parcel of musty old books about!
He smoked,—no wonder he lost his health!
VII
"I doubt he bathed before he dressed.
A brasier?—the pagan, he burned perfumes!
You see it is proved, what the neighbours guessed:
His wife and himself had separate rooms."
VIII
Friends, the goodman of the house at least
Kept house to himself till an earthquake came:
'Tis the fall of its frontage permits you feast
On the inside arrangement you praise or blame.
IX
Outside should suffice for evidence:
And whoso desires to penetrate
Deeper, must dive by the spirit sense—
No optics like yours, at any rate!
X
"Hoity toity! A street to explore,
Your house the exception! 'With this same key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart,' once more!"
Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!
poem by Robert Browning from Pacchiarotto (1876)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wife to Be (Petrarchan Sonnet)
I stroll along a fragrant country lane
With honeysuckle perfume on the air -
And feathered crooner's warble to revere -
Then cross a golden sea of flowing grain
In empathy - it seems to sense my pain
Of knowing all was done with my affair -
Her empty meaning now the solitaire
She cast away - betrothment all in vain.
But oceans team with many fish to catch
So I must up and hoist another sail
And seek the one that really waits for me,
For soon auspicious breezes will prevail
In guiding forth to find a truer match:
The one to take my hand as wife to be.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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My loves sonnet
My loves sonnet
~
My love is an unwritten sonnet
an ode to the greatest beauty
which sparks the soul into a song
and the heart a merry dance
which brings to life many a dream
such joy I now find in me
happy my soul thanks to love
that the world should hear
and share in such sweetness
the rich melody of this sonnet
still remains unwritten
but this love, such love
inspires all creation to thought
how can such beauty
be captured in words alone
to eternity I look and beyond
to read my unwritten love
is to live and watch over it
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Poet And The Baby
How's a man to write a sonnet, can you tell,--
How's he going to weave the dim, poetic spell,--
When a-toddling on the floor
Is the muse he must adore,
And this muse he loves, not wisely, but too well?
Now, to write a sonnet, every one allows,
One must always be as quiet as a mouse;
But to write one seems to me
Quite superfluous to be,
When you 've got a little sonnet in the house.
Just a dainty little poem, true and fine,
That is full of love and life in every line,
Earnest, delicate, and sweet,
Altogether so complete
That I wonder what's the use of writing mine.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Sonnet Cakes
Sonnet Cakes
Catch a passing flock of words
Put them in a pan
To make a happy sonnet
For your favourite man.
Add a pinch of rhythm
A spoonful of rhyme
Pop them in the oven
Then wait some time
Check if they are burning
Consult with your muse
About variety in flavours,
In structure, different views.
Jolly sonnet cakes for tea
Some for you and some for me.
poem by Irene C S ClarkHogg
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Sonnet- Sonnet Needs Rhymes
Can you a Sonnet write without its rhyme?
Now people want the modern verse that's free;
As ideas get stuck and cramped with time,
A Sonnet's like leafless branches of tree!
A Sonnet's great for men who rhyme too well;
Its beauty lives in metre, rhythm, rhyme;
Yet, it can never run into 'pel-mel';
The sonneteer can write in any clime.
Why abhor rhymes and not a Sonnet write?
Each genre has its rules to comply with;
Why sleep all day and stay awake all night?
Rhyme-play is done by Kindergarden kith!
Why ridicule something you can't do well,
Much things are done by practice, Sonnets tell.
poem by John Celes
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In Pursuit Of The Sonnet
I cannot write a sonnet; it's too hard
To put such barriers around my brain
And thus I find my efforts often marred
Although I rephrase again and again
I cannot write a sonnet though I try
Through day and night, through winter, into spring
And even though I have no reason why
A ten-syllable line my thoughts won't bring.
But now I wonder just what is so great
About this 'iambic pentameter'?
And am almost resigned that it's my fate
That from the sonnet form I should defer
Yet, having spent so long in search of one
T'would be a shame if it should not be done
poem by SarahJane Platt
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Sonetto
My Sonnet is cantante, is vibrant
as was formerly sing in Provance
has no oitavas or métricas
My love does not fit in such poetics
He finally speaks of my heart is
the time who does not can measure
the same time that can not I belie
All the love that i have for you
I love you more often today
subtly in love in displicente way
who does want nothing, that only belongs
I love you in my imperfect sonnet
I love you in verses my poorly done way
But it's truly love my romantic say
poem by Mirna Morgan
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First sonnet
These words, they just wont come out of my head.
They stay deep down inside, where i can't reach.
I feel as if my mind has now gone dead.
These thoughts, i just cant hold, i want to screech!
You want me to write you a just sonnet,
but i cant think of what to say to you.
All i can think of is the word bonnet,
because its the only rhyme i can do.
if you want a better sonnet than this.
Then so help me, cause i don't have a clue.
do you think of my sonnet as amiss?
or are these thoughts down in my head adieu?
Will these ideas in my mind now leave?
So then i ask when will i be relieved?
poem by Brianna Perreira
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Sonnet of Love
We stand on the ground
upon a turning page
brandishing like a banner in the wind.
Here in the branch of land
and the debris of its flipping leaves
and the page
that in its lines
absorbs the ink of our fate
the book that from the green ink of our phase
prints the unsettling song of its departures
with the words that
they seize hands to serenade
And to tune
the golden grove of our chests
when they burst in their love
and the white flutter of our wings
grafting
in the dove of our hearts
The graft like the rose's red sonnet of blooming!
Like the sonnet of colors when they surrender to your eyes!
and the worship of leaves
in temple of the stems!
Like the sonnet of sun ridge
on the hackle of our hands
Like the nest of lights on branches of our faith
Like the sonnet of borderless regions
and remote lands
The sonnet of reborn paths
and the womb of the passages
that is brimming of the rays of sunshine
poem by Hammadh Zareer
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Anti-Sonnet
They say a sonnet must be all about
Romance, and swing in rhyme and rhythm, but
I shall try to defy them and slam shut
The door on love, as I rant loud and shout
That I’m not interested in such things
As tenderness, soft speech, platitudes, that
Pander to their whims. Shall I fall down flat
As my attempt to write no ode that sings
Of soppiness will fail? I shall plough on
To put my case that I’m not going where
You want me. To put the finger on it,
This anti-sonnet is a love-less one:
Don’t goad me to be goo-ey, I don’t care
I shall not mention love in this sonnet.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Evolution
Long, long ago as poets know.
A sonnet was a little song
without rules you had to follow.
There was no way you could go wrong.
Petrarch invented a fixed form
and then Will Shakespeare altered it.
Both are accepted as the norm
although they vary quite a bit.
Since Will most poets had a try
to write a sonnet in their way.
The hide bound purists can't deny
there’s many sonnet forms today.
Like any art fine poetry
evolves and improves constantly.
28-Nov-08
http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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War at Home
Ever since they took him away,
to fight that God forsaken war.
I daydream in our fields all day.
They took the man that I adore.
Gazing across the windswept grass
and waiting for the time to pass.
The memory of times before,
they took the man that I adore.
I know he’ll walk across that field
with battle wounds yet still unhealed.
My broken heart can take no more,
they took the man that I adore.
Ever since they took him away,
they took the man that I adore.
Author Notes:
Kyrielle Sonnet
A Kyrielle Sonnet consists of 14 lines (three rhyming quatrain stanzas and a non-rhyming couplet) . Just like the traditional Kyrielle poem, the Kyrielle Sonnet also has a repeating line or phrase as a refrain (usually appearing as the last line of each stanza) . Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet consists of only eight syllables. French poetry forms have a tendency to link back to the beginning of the poem, so common practice is to use the first and last line of the first quatrain as the ending couplet. This would also re-enforce the refrain within the poem. Therefore, a good rhyming scheme
for a Kyrielle Sonnet would be: AabB, ccbB, ddbB, AB -or- AbaB, cbcB, dbdB, AB.
poem by Amera Andersen
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Sonnet On A Star
If I could write a sonnet
on a star
Then bottle it and
toss it to the sea
Would it travel
to the corners of the Earth,
And echo there
the love I hold for thee? If I could write a sonnet
on the moon
Then bottle it and
toss it to the winds
Would it find your heart
So you may briefly know,
Where your love ends
Is where my love begins? If I could write a sonnet
on the sun
Then bottle it and
toss it throughout time
Would someone from a distant galaxy
Find no greater love
Than that was mine Yet, I cannot write a sonnet
on a star,
Nor moon, nor even on
the blazing sun,
Nor bottle words to send them
Where you are
Nor coerce our separate hearts
To beat as one And so my darling
You will never hear
The humble words of love
I wrote for thee
They remain encrypted,
tightly sealed
And yet they travel
on eternally
poem by Tamara Beryl Latham
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Sonnet: My Poetic Evolution
From simple Rhymes that Kinder-gardens teach,
And little songs that children love to sing,
I worked my way, up to what Poets reach,
And tried to soar the Skies with my own Wing!
And then I came to know what metre was;
And Rhythm melody of words and sounds;
And soon I was some kind of Poetic-Boss;
And tried my skill of words in newer grounds!
The old was gold but people wanted new;
I had to write 'free verses' now and then;
My Sonnets sprung with speed and divine hue;
My Wings were strong enough to reach Heaven!
Believe-it-or-not, I'm World's Sonnet-King!
Each Sonnet was just a ten- minute thing!
poem by John Celes
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Life's A Sonnet
life is a trumpet
every being responds to
a banquet
singing and joy corresponds to
a pamphlet
reading comprehends to
some bank it
some complements to
awaken is the wise
lost is the nice
fed with a jolly of rice
menu with a spice
bitter taste twice
as nice
some telling lies
and surely pay the price
but to reap a slice
you ought to sweat thrice
and ding dong like a dice
but sometimes not, and your infant cries
at times you make it, and she (joyously) smiles
for life’s a sonnet, going many miles
believe you me, life’s a sonnet
that connects the next sonnet
with the stanza of the next other sonnet
a reflection of the next text
life’s a deviant not in isolation from the rest
it is within, to attest
a guarantee to be the best
or the worst
of the wild west
‘til you laid to rest
a life on your chest
a beverage to quench your pleasure and zest
an acid to fest
on you to cleanse your pest
life’s a neutron, not a proton
a nucleus of the phantom
an octopus of ransom
a means to come from
a beast to share from
indeed, life and sonnet dot com!
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Don't Tell THe World! (Sonnet)
This Sonnet is in the popular Petrarchan Form
I behold thy love as beautiful thing,
In my wrecked heart, a pleasure garden,
Thy revered love, a blooming Eden.
A daisy tuft seasoned by bright spring,
Surging in moments that defeats waiting,
I behold thy words as a jeweled crown,
On my worn pages of despicable frown.
And thy memory feeds my mind dying,
Daring couple disclose, but don’t you tell,
About memoirs many encased and kept,
Say not thy chronicle, sweet as daisy smell,
Buried, not unseen to thy eyes except
Reveal not, the guarded stash of our love,
Lest a rational world desires to know! ! !
IA NOTE: For those who find the format unfitting to a sonnet!
(Sonnet
only 14 lines long— and has a firmly fixed form. The sonnet works best for expressing strong emotion or intense feeling, firm purpose, or great seriousness. This form works best if you want to focus attention on a single thing—a particular idea, situation, emotion, problem, observation, etc. —the sonnet gets to its point quickly and efficiently, with beauty and charm of form or expression.
The Shakespearean (or English) sonnet and the Petrarchan (or Italian) sonnet are the two most prevalent versions of this form today.
A Shakespearean sonnet or English sonnet is written in one stanza composed of three rhymed quatrains (each making one point in a three-step argument) , followed by a rhyming couplet that summarizes the argument
A Petrarchan sonnet or Italian sonnet is composed of an octet followed by a sestet with a variable rhyme scheme. The octet presents the poem’s theme or problem, while the sestet offers a change or a resolution. In its traditional form, this sonnet never ends in a couplet.
Robert Frost was popular at Petrarchan form of sonnets.
sonnet’s formal requirements (14 lines of iambic pentameter with a specific rhyme scheme) , method (a strong focus on one subject) , and goals (persuasion, surprise, balance) ,
Ref: www.poetry.com/techniques/form of poetic expressions.
Thank You
poem by Seema Aarella
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The Sonnet ii
SCORN not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frown'd,
Mindless of its just honours; with this key
Shakespeare unlock'd his heart; the melody
Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound;
A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound;
With it Camöens sooth'd an exile's grief;
The Sonnet glitter'd a gay myrtle leaf
Amid the cypress with which Dante crown'd
His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp,
It cheer'd mild Spenser, call'd from Faery-land
To struggle through dark ways; and when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The Thing became a trumpet; whence he blew
Soul-animating strains--alas, too few!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Sonnet For The World
I want to write a sonnet for the world
I want it to make you feel warm and cold
one where you can whisper and still be heard
treat it like a child, it is born, and hold
it so it becomes yours and not just mine
speak it like a prophet and pass it down
it is not a man who has done a crime
nor should it be lost when at last its found
it should open doors, it should give your chance
to question all the things you do not know
it should be the answer for ignorance
taking you places that you want to go
it should be a sonnet to save us all
only I wait for my angel to call.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Dearly Beloved (write To Me)
Write me a poem, dearly beloved,
Write of your love, your fidelity, your proclivity
For doing what is right for me, not what is right;
Speak to me of what you feel
Not sugared words served on pity tarts
Write me a poem, dearly beloved,
If you cannot, then contend to break my heart.
Write me a prose, dearly beloved,
Then narrate it on an elevated stand
To the heavens and the sea and whatever lies betwixt
The shadows of both so that all can hear;
Speak only truth for I cannot stomach lies of such art
Write me a prose, dearly beloved,
If you cannot, then contend to break my heart.
Write me a sonnet, dearly beloved
And sing it by the edge of the fast flowing stream
Sing to me as if you sang to all the forest
And called forth its life from the concealing leaves of jade
And of this assembly of the innocent, I shall be an active part
So write me a sonnet, dearly beloved,
If you cannot, then contend to break my heart.
poem by Samah Khan
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The Last Sonnet
There are many challenges that I have seen
not many are as odd as this one is
to this challenge I am not very keen
I would much rather get a final quiz
The assignment is an anthology
so many poems to put into it
please Easton send me to biology
if someone sold one I would buy a kit
I say the worst part of this assignment
Is writing a original sonnet
This makes my brain go out of alignment
to not do it can I move to Monett
This, the last sonnet I will ever do
is now being enjoyed right now by you.
poem by Kaleb Christenberry
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