Sonnet LX - Variations In Imitation - after William Shakespeare
See below W S Sonnet LX for English and French variations
Sonnet LX
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d,
Crooked eclipses ‘gainst his glory fight
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow
Feeds on the rareities of Nature’s truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow;
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth despite his cruel hand.
William SHAKESPEARE shak1_0008_shak1_0000 PST_DZX
________________________
So nnet LX Imitation - Par Vagues
Par vagues, s’approchant à la rive pierreuse,
Nos instants précieux écument leur destin,
Chacun son précédent remplaçant en chemin,
Le tout se bousculant - avancée périlleuse.
Le Temps notre jeunesse avale et l’âme heureuse,
Avance, et, mûrissant, se voit sacrée: sa main
Dispute nos chansons, gloires d’antan, - déclin
Que le faucheur étale, éclipse malheureuse.
Le Temps reprend ses dons, de profonds sillons creuse,
Des affronts forts profonds au front jadis si saint,
En dévorant les traces de notre grâce éteinte,
Aucun ne faisant face à sa fauche rieuse!
Pourtant malgré le Temps, sa main sans pitié,
Ces lignes attendent un jour coulant de vérité.
15 December 1991 revised 2005 robi3_0508_shak1_0008 PFT_DZX see robi3_0654
Translation William SHAKESPEARE – Sonnet LX for previous version see below
__________________
Sonnet LX
Ainsi qu’aux vagues visant la rive pierreuse,
Nos instants précieux se hâtent vers leur destin,
Chacun son précedent remplaçant en chemin,
Le tout se bousculant - avancée perilleuse.
Le temps notre jeunesse avale et l’âme heureuse,
Avance, et, mûrissant, se voit sacrée: sa main
Dispute les chansons, les gloires d’antan; - déclin
Que le faucheur étale, éclipse malheureuse.
Le Temps reprend ses dons, de profonds sillons creuse,
Des indentations au front qui fut si saint,
En dévorant les graces où la Nature s’éteint.
Qui peut faire face à sa fauche rieuse?
Pourtant malgré le Temps, sa main sans pitié,
Ces lignes attendent un jour coulant de verité.
15 December 1991
________________________
Sonnet LX Imitation
En courant tels des flots vers la plage pierreuse,
nos instants en avant roulent vers leur destin,
chacun son précédent remplaçant en chemin,
le tout se bousculant - par vagues périlleuses.
Le Temps vite avale notre jeunesse heureuse,
avance, et, mûrissant, se voit sacrée: sa main
dispute les chansons, la gloire, le déclin
que le faucheur étale, éclipse malheureuse.
Le Temps reprend ses dons, de subtils sillons creuse, -
des affronts forts profonds au front jadis si saint,
en se gavant de tout, et la Nature s’éteinte. -
qui peut s'opposer à cette fauche rieuse?
Pourtant malgré le Temps, sa main sans pitié,
ces lignes guettent un jour coulant de vérité.
15 December 1992 robi3_0654_shak1_0008 PFT_DZX see robi3_0508
Translation William SHAKESPEARE – Sonnet LX
_________________________
Sonnet LX In Imitation
Fate’s fretful oars dip fitfully once more,
weary Charon, charged with souls, is found
awaiting some predestined Thermidor
that Death to death leads, Judgement Book disbound.
Emboldened Youth flares like a meteor
to adulthood - successes then abound -
till age eclipses strength - strength sure before,
grave Time, which gave, retrieves, leaves muddy mound
as overconfidence meets fatal flaw.
Wrinkles wreak havoc. Beauty is discrowned.
Truth, firm today, tomorrow may restore
to chaos whence it came - flame Lethe drowned.
Yet one alone amidst the sands of time
stands out, flouts doubt, to feed eternal rhyme.
16 December 1991 revised 1995 and 20081031
William SHAKESPEARE Sonnet LX robi3_0510_shak1_0008 PSX_DLZ
For previous version see below
____________________
Sonn et LX In Imitation
The fretful oars dip fitfully once more,
as Charon, charged with souls, is weary found
awaiting some predestined Thermidor
which Death to death will lead deep underground.
Emboldened Youth flares like a meteor
to adulthood - successes then abound -
till age eclipses strength, - strength sure before,
grave Time, which gave, retrieves, would gift confound,
in overconfidence finds fatal flaw.
Wrinkles wreak havoc, Beauty is discrowned.
Truth, firm today, tomorrow shall restore
to chaos whence it came, - flame Lethe drowned.
Yet she alone amidst the sands of time
stands out, flouts doubt, to feed eternal rhyme.
16 December 1991 revised 1995
William SHAKESPEARE Sonnet LX robi3_0510_shak1_0008 PSX_DLZ
__________________
Sonnet LX Swift Sped
Swift sped, fled minutes hasten to dead end,
As surging waves swim over pebbled shore,
None out of sequence, all do all befriend,
Drain tide’s ride seeking those that flowed before.
Rising star, once centre of attraction,
Is soon mature, boom ripe to dire doom rots -
Nor can it fight against its strength's subtraction,
Escrow dreams redeemed, lot drawn, eyes dots.
Vain prove's youth's creams when Time with Truth plays games
Adding care’s parallels to beauty's brow,
It nothing spares, pares all, bars specious claims,
Lets nothing stand - no tithe its scythe won't mow.
Long still thy worth Time's inroads will withstand,
And None Thy birth forget, despite dread hand.
October 20 1992 slightly revised 21 October 2009 see robi3_0508 robi3_0654
William SHAKESPEARE Sonnet LX
___________________________
Sonnet LX Time Takes Back Gifts
Must, crushed, dust minutes hustle to [c]rust ends
as wake waves break on Charon’s jetsam shore?
In sequent bustle, current past befriends
beachcombing foam mocks flotsam sprayed before.
Life’s wayward goal, pole centre of attraction,
soon disappoints, ripe rots, tripe fast forgot,
though weak wish leak plugged, stopping strength's subtraction.
Time takes back gifts, tease cross lack, as eyes dot.
Dreams mould to must, stay weighs, repay plays games,
wretch sketch bars parallel on beauty's brow,
spares naught, pares fraught despairs’ false halt fault [cl]aims,
rakes in lost chips - no cost tithe scythe can cow.
Miraculous, Earth’s star stills tocsin’s hand,
rhymed worth alone Time's toxins will withstand.
24 July 2004 revised 21 October 2009 robi3_1045_shak1_0008 PSX_DZX
William SHAKESPEARE Sonnet LX
___________________
Sonnet LX – Sang to M.C.
So must flower hours bloom until doom’s tomb [bl]end,
As waves which break upon brake pebbled shore,
None out of sequence, all must all befriend,
Go [st]ride the tide, 'side those that flowed before.
Thus rising stars, once centre of attraction,
Old soon mature, once ripe begin to rot,
Misled who'd try to strive against subtraction, -
A gift Time swift redeems, each ‘I’ must dot,
Misled are those who would illusions nourish
Advancing parallels in beauty's brow
Untimely etched, may still be mocked by flourish,
Death grins at boasts when vainest peacocks crow.
Enriched is mode Time's inroads can withstand,
Comfort draw from rhymes which still Fate's hand.
4 July 2008 robi3_1813_shak1_0008 PSX_DZX
William SHAKESPEARE Sonnet LX
Maude Sonnet Cycle n.b. No separate entry included in robi3_1813
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Sonnet LX
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
poem by William Shakespeare (1609)
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet 60: Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned,
Crookèd eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth despite his cruel hand.
poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
ma rriage
marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage marriage marriage sonnet
sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet
sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet
sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet
sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet
sonnet sonnet sonnet
sonnet sonnet
sonnet
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Four Square Sonnet - Parody Shakespeare Sonnet CXVI
ONE FOUR SQUARE SONNET
Let's not into true marriage of two minds
Admit expedience. Love wears no kid glove
Which falters where fits, altercations, finds
Or ends when dumb observer would remove.
For lo! that marks stark feckless leaver, hark!
Tempest cooks cat's books, stands sturdy shaken,
Here, wild oats sown, dog-star to wandering bark,
Its birth unknown although its bow save bacon.
Since Love fools Time, lip-service cheeky rhyme
Within big spending tickle’s compass come,
O'er years piques havoc wreak, strange phantom mime,
Remaining edgy till wan wedge of doom,
Let be, if error writ, and on me proved,
Dumb see my wit, for no man clever loved.
30 October 1991 revised 14 July 2007 and 1 May 2010
robi03_0467_shak01_0022 PAS_LZX
Parody William SHAKESPEARE 1564_1616 Sonnet CXVI
For previous version see after notes and links
Author notes
acrostic sonnet LAW OF THIS WORLD
------
readers should carefully compare text line by line to that of Shakespeare's version
--------
Title One Four Square Sonnet...One hundred and 4 x 4 = 116 = Sonnet CXVI
four-square
• adjective 1 (of a building) having a square shape and solid appearance.2 firm and resolute.
• adverb 1 squarely and solidly.2 firmly and resolutely.
see also the game Four-Square where eternal triangle tries an additional angle
http: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four-Square
Animat ed Cat tossing Dog http: //media.photobucket.com/image/%22animated%22%20%2 0%20%20%22cats%22%20%20%20%22dogs%22/boedaxkeneh/ funny_animated_pictures_18.gif? o=13
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
MARRIAGE OF TWO MINDS
Let not into the marriage of two minds
Admit expedience. Love is not love
Which falters where it altercation finds
Or ends when some observer would remove.
Fie no! it is an ever fixèd mark
That looks on cats and never is awaken,
Here, ‘tis the dog-star to every wandering bark,
Its birth unknown although its bough be shaken.
Since Love Time’s fool is not, though rosy cheeks
Within his wending tickle’s compass come,
Or alters not with years which havoc wreaks,
Remaining shady to the edge of doom,
Let thus if error this, and on me proved,
Dumb be my w[r]it, for no man ever loved.
30 October 1991 revised 14 July 2007
Parody William Shakespeare - Sonnet CXVI
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
SONNET CXVI
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star which every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, altho’ his hight be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
William SHAKESPEARE 1564_1616
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
STRUGNELL'S SONNETS VI
Let me not to the marriage of true swine
Admit impediments. With his big car
He's won your heart, and you have punctured mine.
I have no spare; henceforth I'll bear the scar.
Since women are not worth the booze you buy them
I dedicate myself to Higher Things.
If men deride and sneer, I shall defy them
And soar above Tulse Hill on poet's wings -
A brother to the thrush in Brockwell Park,
Whose song, though sometimes drowned by rock guitars,
Outlives their din. One day I'll make my mark,
Although I'm not from Ulster or from Mars,
And when I'm published in some classy mag
You'll rue the day you scarpered in his Jag.
Parody William SHAKESPEARE – Sonnet CXVI
COPE Wendy 1945_20xx
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Reality and Dream in Rhyme Combine
REALITY AND DREAM IN RHYME COMBINE
Reality and dream in rhyme combine,
Exile banality’s reflection drear
As poet must contrive to intertwine
Life’s daily drudge with overview sincere.
Image outside time in harmony
Translates soul’s authenticity, stays clear,
Engenders metamorphosis to see
Redrawn from chaos truth’s portrait appear
Exquisitely with sensitivity
And skill where will, wit, wisdom writ sans fear
Leave all taboos behind as mind’s fey key
Insightful may unlock creation clear.
Thus all the splendour of life’s symphony
Expressed in sonnet song can come to be.
11 February 2009
robi03_1857_robi03_0341 AST_IXX
Translation of Rêve est Réalité en Poésie robi3_0341_robi3_0000
for French orignal sonnet see below
REVE EST REALITE EN POESIE
Rêve est réalité redéfinie,
Etant reflet qui le banal bannit.
Au poète il incombe de changer
La lie quotidienne, recréer
Image hors temps. Ainsi cette harmonie -
Toute l’authenticité de son esprit -
En un élan peut métamorphoser
Recherche incohérente en vérité,
Et à travers son portrait fin, exquis,
Avec adresse et sensibilité
Le poète dépasse l’interdit
Imaginant pour tous sa féerie.
Toute la splendeur d’une symphonie
En ces lignes se crystallise ainsi.
? 26 April 1990 database noted as 10 October 1990
Acrostic Sonnet REALITE rob0i3_0341_robi03_0000
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Exemplary - after William Shakespeare Sonnet XVIII
Shall I compare her? In what galaxy,
And when or where? No mirror could reflect
Nature's epitome so talent decked,
Gainsaying self, Time holds all time in fee!
Telescopes in vain seek other sun
One half as bright, whose universal joy,
Might Big Bang justify, all it begun.
All would exchange their place for her employ.
Myths don truth’s dress, coeval, - past, to be,
Aeons root, shoot, fruit, tree, end and start,
Under, above, in, out, earth, sky and sea,
Do merge, name frame as “all in one” apart.
Exemplary, all praise she’ll gain through giving,
Cycles may spin, yet one, though lost stays living.
© Jonathan Robin & Maude Corrieras Acrostic Sonnet Sang to ma Maude C 17 June 2008
Author notes
Sonnet XVIII
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often in his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
William Shakespeare Sonnet XVIII
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rêve est Réalité en Poésie
REVE EST REALITE EN POESIE
Rêve est réalité redéfinie,
Etant reflet qui le banal bannit.
Au poète il incombe de changer
La lie quotidienne, recréer
Image hors temps. Ainsi cette harmonie -
Toute l’authenticité de son esprit -
En un élan peut métamorphoser
Recherche incohérente en vérité,
Et à travers son portrait fin, exquis,
Avec adresse et sensibilité
Le poète dépasse l’interdit
Imaginant pour tous sa féerie.
Toute la splendeur d’une symphonie
En ces lignes se crystallise ainsi.
? 26 April 1990 database noted as 10 October 1990
Acrostic Sonnet REALITE
robi03_0341_robi03_0000 ASF_IXX
for English translation see below
Reality and Dream in Rhyme Combine
Reality and dream in rhyme combine,
Exile banality’s reflection drear
As poet must contrive to intertwine
Life’s daily drudge with overview sincere.
Image outside time in harmony
Translates soul’s authenticity, stays clear,
Engenders metamorphosis to see
Redrawn from chaos truth’s portrait appear
Exquisitely with sensitivity
And skill where will and wisdom without fear
Leave all taboos behind as mind’s fey key
Insightful may unlock creation clear.
Thus all the splendour of life’s symphony
Expressed in sonnet song can come to be.
11 February 2009
Translation of Rêve est Réalité en Poésie
robi03_0341_robi03_0000 ASF_IXX
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Comedy of Errors
COMEDY OF ERRORS
Shrew tamed, All's Well, though here is Much Ado!
Antony and Cleopatra met
No Rape, no Tragedy, since each stayed true,
Grave born, like Romeo and Juliet.
Thus Richard, John and Harry had preferred
One History where each could heed thy call!
Measured each Tempest's threat is, for unheard
All envy's Comic Error is withal!
My love as Pilgrim Passionate here's signed,
As Venus to Adonis here allied,
Urge Lover's Complaint in neatest verse aligned, -
Dove Turtle are to Phoenix true supplied.
Echoed are Plays with Sonnets' sequent frame,
Continued may sustain Shakespearian flame.
12 November 1990 revised 22 September 2008 as Sonnet CLXXIV Maude Care Is Our Dream Shakespeare's Plays Parodies
robi03_0356_robi03_0000 PAS_MXX
… original version Sandrine Sonnet Cycle
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love alters not
(after William Shakespeare)
Let me state with all of humankind
as my witness, that love is more than bliss,
is much more than the drawing of a kiss,
it does no error or any change find,
it is true to the body, soul and mind,
in the simple things of each day it is
and all other allures it does dismiss,
much stronger than life, pass death it does bind,
burns with a kind of eternal hot flame
which wanders not within time, months or weeks,
its acts, its words continually does bloom,
in hardship it does not find any blame,
eternally sincerity it seeks,
it stays true, even at the gates of doom.
[Reference: “Sonnet 116 Let me to the marriage of true minds” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To me my love, you never can get old
To me my love, you never can get old,
as I saw you when each one
of us were young and now in forty summers hold,
to the same beauty after many years have gone.
It is as if time stands still
and although I might be deceived
and forever will
as in you I have perceived
something exceptional and the same spark,
the same enchanting
that on me left its mark,
in that far off spring and it is still rising:
if love is put to the test,
for me in you, she answers to the best.
[Reference: Sonnet 104 “To me, fair friend, you never can be old” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As long as there is love (in answer to William Shakespeare)
Your lovely countenance is brighter
than that worn by the hot summer season,
your purity, your integrity is much whiter
than the lily that dwindles without reason.
At a time all lovely things withers away,
disintegrate, weather, with age are frail,
to change are set and nothing can stay,
even seasons change as if they ail,
over time rhyme, poetry is not in vogue,
death removes, memories go to oblivion
people are forgotten, are out of dialogue
and even the greatest with time are gone
but as long as there is love, constantly,
your sheer beauty, men will in women see.
[Reference: “Sonnet XVIII Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? ” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When love in time decays
When love in time decays,
when it looses all of its respects
and you cannot come my way,
when it is only filled with defects
and on the street we do not meet
while you awkwardly walk pass
not even be able to greet
as if there never was
anything between the two of us,
then walk past me
do not pause, just catch a taxi or a bus
as one that is totally free:
do not even look back to me
just let me be.
[Reference: Sonnet 49 “Against that time, if ever that time come” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When time glides by and days past into night
When time glides by and days past into night
and violet, white even blue flowers are withering
with every morning’s light
as if everything is dying
trees are barren stripped of their leaves,
still perfect you are in every way
while wheat are bound in golden sheaves
while winter brings its own decay
it is as if you are still blossoming
with love serene, true and amazing
as if caught in an eternal spring
as if the heat from your heart is blazing:
on the other side of death, of heaven or doom
your flower will still bloom.
[Reference: Sonnet 16 “But wherefor do not you a mightier way” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!