Sonnet

Beren

Beren

New member
i'm not sure if there has already been a thread with this topic. If it was, stop me :D
Well, over here you can write your sonnets...and I will start :D

My cherished dear, my angel, glee, delight
That flows through my untended thoughts of love
No grief nor wrath evolved from thee, but might
Of love since thou descended from above

The fairest gift have I from thee obtained
The granted prize that burned my heartless ice
Thy kiss hath in my heart not once complained
Will perish not, but nor will it suffice

And thus this frail heart that craves for nought
But thy unceasing love and constant care
Will not a thing again it need or sought
When once thy love for me is true and fair

Then finally thou love me as it seems
We hug and I awaken from my dreams.
 
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I really like yours! :) It's got this Shakespearian feel to it, which is just awesome. You describe it beautifully.

I've also tried my hand at some sonnets before. This one was written in 2005, after a very tough period of depression. :)

Past

The shades are ever moving
Within the bright sun's eye
Every day is ever proving
What it is like to die

And every sorrow is another
When the heart fails to breathe
The air is frail and smothers
All the happiness I sheathe

About the years I write of
I know I was too blind to see
The door of hope and love
To which I never had a key

I hope one day I'll understand
The dreams I hold within my hand
 
Beren and Solya, I'm highly impressed by both of you, writing rhymed verse in a language that is not your native language. Please do more, both of you!

Solya, I have something to share which you should NOT take as negative criticism. Your poem really is very good, but in the strictest rules of William Shakespeare's time it is not an actual sonnet. This is because of meter, the number of "beats" in each line. In a true sonnet (AND in most of the dialogue of Shakespeare's plays), every line is in "iambic pentameter;" this means that every line has five "weak" syllables, each one of which is followed by a "strong" syllable. The resultant word-rhythm is like this:

da DA da DA da DA da DA da DA

--as in the opening line of Shakespeare's most famous sonnet, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"

--or the closing line of John Milton's most famous sonnet, "They also serve who only stand and wait."

--or for that matter, the line "How deeply you're connected to my soul," which you feature in your siggy.

Your poem called "PAST" is just fine in its own right; I simply wanted to show you what a tight, narrow definition the sonnet was given by its inventors in Shakespeare's time.


Joseph Ravitts, author of "Southward the Tigers"
 
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Copperbox thank you for your comment :) Do you maybe have a Sonnet of your own? I only have one more english sonnet... but it's not really that good, so I'll think about posting...will let you know :D Otherwise i have a few more songs...that do not have as strict rules as sonnets. Maybe if we change the rules of this Thread into... Post your poetry here? :D

Solya... I like your sonnet. I like the way you describe your feelings...but i have to agree with Copperbox about the meter. Otherwise it's great...so do go on ;)
 
Beren, I'd say don't give up on sonnets as a specialty; but we can make it broader by saying we'll show both literal sonnets AND poems which try to convey some of the same feel as a sonnet.

Long ago, I wrote a theological sonnet. I have, in fact, posted it in "Marketplace of Technique," but it bears recycling in a sonnet thread. My point was this:

In the land of Israel, there is very little winter as temperate-zone dwellers understand winter; on the other hand, there is a scorching summer during which no crops can grow unless artificially irrigated. Therefore, even though Israel is in the Northern Hemisphere, its traditional crop-growing season _begins_ in October or thereabouts. When the Christian faith spread into Europe, many untravelled Europeans assumed that Israel would have the same seasons as Europe, so that springtime in Israel would be like springtime in Europe. This in turn led to mistaken interpretations of Easter--interpretations made by men who wanted Easter ONLY to mean springtime, NOT the literal bodily resurrection of Jesus. Well, my explanation has ended up longer than my sonnet, but HERE is the sonnet:

The trees condense a cloud of leafy mist;
And, like the robins coming home to perch,
Once more the skeptic and materialist
Wield springtime as a flail against the church.
“Your Resurrection’s just a metaphor
Of spring’s renewal!” Saying this, they tell
The world that they don’t know, or they ignore,
The different climate in old Israel.
There, winter was the growing time, and spring
Meant harvest, endings, dryness—not rebirth;
Yet there and then the resurrected King
Leaped far above the seasons of the Earth.
While spring, as we know spring, serves for a sign,
There’s more than metaphor in the Divine.
 
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Copperfox said:
Solya, I have something to share which you should NOT take as negative criticism. Your poem really is very good, but in the strictest rules of William Shakespeare's time it is not an actual sonnet. This is because of meter, the number of "beats" in each line. In a true sonnet (AND in most of the dialogue of Shakespeare's plays), every line is in "iambic pentameter;" this means that every line has five "weak" syllables, each one of which is followed by a "strong" syllable. The resultant word-rhythm is like this:
Click to expand...

Wow, thanks for that! In school they made me write something without the iambic pentameter, but I can see where you're coming from. I always knew there was something different about the poem in comparison to the writings from Shakespeare, but I could never figure out what it was. ;) Thanks so much for that... I'm really going to try and write one with an iambic pentameter in it. I like to write a lot of regular poems, so once in a while I challenge myself with keeping to certain rhythms in rhyme and so on.
 
Concerning that pentameter, look here:
It can be done with otherwise plain words.
It need not always rhyme, as long as you
Keep track of stressed and unstressed syllables,
With unstressed syllables before the stressed.
You realize, this means that you cannot
Use unstressed syllables to end your lines;
Thus, words like "battle," "famous," "lovely" or
"Tremendous," must fit in before lines end.
Yet now and then, because of what he seeks
To say, a writer of this five-beat style
Will end with unstressed word-ends anyway,
And this is what they call poetic license because who's keeping score?
 
Beren, Solya, you still there?

Let's try writing a new sonnet IN COLLABORATION. I'll get it started with a single quatrain (4-line verse). In doing this, I'm going to illustrate poetic license with respect to how many beats are in a line. As already described, the iambic pentameter pattern of word-rhythm demands ten syllables per line, alternating between unstressed and stressed ones. Thus, any word in which TWO syllables in a row are BOTH unstressed is a problem. A sonnet writer facing this poor fit, and not wanting to change words, will normally prefer to treat the two consecutive "weak" syllables as ONE syllable. You will see me do this here in the first line, with the word "vulnerability."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"THE CHILD LUCY, REMEMBERED BY MR. TUMNUS"

Personifying vulnerability,
Not guessing what cold malice lay in wait,
She greeted the first creature she could see,
Which was myself--I bless that turn of fate!
 
Okay, maybe Beren and Solya have just been busy

So, let's bring this back up the queue. I've added one more quatrain to this sonnet about Lucy Pevensie from Tumnus' viewpoint; that leaves another six lines to be written.



Personifying vulnerability,
Not guessing what cold malice lay in wait,
She greeted the first creature she could see,
Which was myself--I bless that turn of fate!

Though ordered to betray all of her kind,
Immune to her appeal I could not be.
Her innocence invaded all my mind;
In catching her, I was myself set free.
 
OK... I didn't really have enoguh time to get into it, but I did my best. Now I'll try to work on the last couplet :D

As white as snow outside my dwelling place
Her fragile hart and soul where pure and bright
Her trust abused I showed my other face
And dancing fire took away the light
 
I'm not even sure if this is the right addition to make or not... I have a feeling I'm still not quite getting it. ;) So any help would be appreciated!

Yet I returned her life to her in song
Winter already dwelt here far too long
 
Well, I'd say you started them a bit wrong. Yet and winter have the firs syllable stress (not sure about yet). You have to start with an unstressed syllable...but otherwise it's good ;)

I'd say something like
But I returned her life to her in song
For here the winter dwelt for far too long

But maybe we should wait for copperfox to finish it :D
 
Thank you, Beren. :) I certainly was not sure on the start of it... the ending was easy enough, because I always write endings before beginnings, but the start was more complicated. ;)

So basically, our sonnet would sound like this:

Personifying vulnerability,
Not guessing what cold malice lay in wait,
She greeted the first creature she could see,
Which was myself--I bless that turn of fate!

Though ordered to betray all of her kind,
Immune to her appeal I could not be.
Her innocence invaded all my mind;
In catching her, I was myself set free.

As white as snow outside my dwelling place
Her fragile heart and soul were pure and bright
Her trust abused I showed my other face
And dancing fire took away the light

But I returned her life to her in song
For here the winter dwelt for far too long
 
Solya, that was great!! Let's try another one! You too, Beren!

"THE DAWN TREADER NEARS ITS GOAL"

So many days the ocean was a threat;
The calms meant thirst, while storms projected wrath.
But now we see the greatest marvel yet:
The ocean turns as friendly as a bath.
 
Pardon my bringing this back up to the top of the queue

Beren and Solya may not have seen where I invited them to join in writing another collaborative Narnian sonnet. Anyone else who cares to, can also give it a try. (Remember, ten syllables to a line.) Here again is the beginning, which leaves ten lines to be added.

"THE DAWN TREADER NEARS ITS GOAL"

So many days the ocean was a threat;
The calms meant thirst, while storms projected wrath.
But now we see the greatest marvel yet:
The ocean turns as friendly as a bath.
 
Hi... Um, I wrote this sonnet a long time ago for a literature project. I don't know if any of you would find it at all interesting...

I tried to write a silly, simple song
Of cats and flowering gardens in the spring;
There was no reason it should have gone wrong,
But of such things I was not made to sing;
The song that in my ears did ever ring
Was not my own, but all my heart was filled;
And rising up like eagle on the wing
It made my own crude songs seem childish, killed
All other inspiration, for God willed
My heart and soul to Him be sanctified;
So by His life only His work to build—
In me He only shall be glorified;
I’ll tell His works, the grace so freely given;
Both now and forevermore in Heaven.
 
Beren said:
i'm not sure if there has already been a thread with this topic. If it was, stop me :D
Well, over here you can write your sonnets...and I will start :D

My cherished dear, my angel, glee, delight
That flows through my untended thoughts of love
No grief nor wrath evolved from thee, but might
Of love since thou descended from above

The fairest gift have I from thee obtained
The granted prize that burned my heartless ice
Thy kiss hath in my heart not once complained
Will perish not, but nor will it suffice

And thus this frail heart that craves for nought
But thy unceasing love and constant care
Will not a thing again it need or sought
When once thy love for me is true and fair

Then finally thou love me as it seems
We hug and I awaken from my dreams.
Click to expand...

I love that one! It's very nice. I am not a good sonnet writer and they are a very very strict form of poetry. However, the sonnet is my favorite form of poetry.
 
Here's one on the spur of the moment

One wife went Further Up and Further In,
But God led me to Janalee in turn.
The new love briefly had me in a spin,
But her new home became cause for concern.

The sinus headaches hit her like a tide;
We finally concluded, "It's the air!"
In Maryland, one's allergies can't hide;
Mold spores and pollen simply don't fight fair.

Poor Jan had headaches fierce enough to kill,
And how to cure them no one had a guess.
But God provided one enormous pill:
That pill's a state we visited out west.

We'll move to Colorado; Jan will breathe,
And say, "God has His own ways to relieve!"
 
Search engines are peculiar. When I tried to search for my old sonnets thread on Google, Google insisted on tossing up links which had ABSOLUTELY NO CONNECTION OF ANY KIND AT ALL with what I had entered as a search. It isn't peculiar that Google would DO this, they do it ALL the time; but it's peculiar that ANYONE still uses Google.

So then I tried the far-superior Bing engine. It at least found a RELATED thread from Dancing Lawn: this one. So here I'll post my sonnet in honor of my second anniversary with Karoliina Aleksandra.


We took my van instead of Carol's car,
To dine at a Brazilian restaurant.
We saw a public-television star
Called Red Green, on his multi-city jaunt

Of one-man live performances. We laughed
When Stephen Smith (his real name) lampooned men.
There in the mezzanine, both fore and aft,
Were fans who's watched him once, and now again.

I bought his book, "How To Do Everything;"
He gave his autograph, and posed for pics.
For that night, we weren't stressed or struggling;
We were at Possum Lodge with fellow hicks.

This anniversary's gone well, I hope;
My choice of gift showed Carol I'm no dope.
 
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