Sonnets Here, In-House

Copperfox said:
An Ode To Stupid People


Fall off both sides of Martin Luther's horse;
Bring fire extinguishers when there's a flood;
Let blind emotions navigate your course;
Be washed, but jump right back into the mud.

Be harsh when people need a gentle touch;
Be soft when what they need is firm reproof;
Do more of what's already done too much;
Exalt your self-esteem above God's truth.

Say "Lean not on your understanding," then
Start leaning on whatever impulse comes;
Pretend you're high above the thoughts of men,
While really marching to emotion's drums.

You think you've won the contest from the start,
Since, like all fools, you're following your heart.
Click to expand...

Wonderful work! Sadly this is the way most of the culture thinks :(
 
Reflections By A Novelist


The column known in Writing Club as "Views"
Reports to me how numbers quickly rise
For Alipang. Of course, this is good news,
But incomplete; it never specifies

If all the readers added recently
Are only now discovering the tale
Of Smoky Lake, and homeschooled puberty,
Or if they've moved on to the grander scale

Of epic Volume Two, the sci-fi plot,
In which my hero does as Daniel did.
I'd rather have a readership than not,
But do they like the sequel? That part's hid.

Is there a market for dystopic books?
I wish I knew if my new plot has hooks.
 
Copperfox said:
...Be harsh when people need a gentle touch;
Be soft when what they need is firm reproof;
Do more of what's already done too much;
Exalt your self-esteem above God's truth.

Say "Lean not on your understanding," then
Start leaning on whatever impulse comes; ...
Click to expand...

I wish I had your poet's gift
to dress ideas in settings new.
You make us think and laugh, and lift
our spirits with your verses, too.

God grant you solace from all sorrows,
-- hope and peace for your tomorrows.
 
To Benisse, in appreciation

It isn't always lightning in the soul
That births a sonnet, or a limerick.
The poet's conscious will may have control--
Just as control is needed when a trick

Of bad luck trips me up. These are the times
When I must work to keep emotions curbed,
Somewhat like putting harness on my rhymes.
Though I would say my loss was undeserved,

It is material that I could use
For one more Shannon sonnet, which could be
Quite poignant for the reader; but I choose
To leave that one unwritten. I know she

Would rather hear Led Zeppelin than sigh
At what I write, so Shannon White, goodbye.
 
To Zella, in appreciation

Young girl who both writes many things herself,
And follows others' work with interest,
You care about my sentimental health,
And for this care, may you in turn be blessed!

God knows that entertainments in our time
Work hard, and work on purpose, to convince
The young that being old's a wicked crime,
While youth makes them as noble as a prince.

Yet, Zella, when you post on "Alipang,"
You show you know the old have things to say;
So I'll keep writing, as in youth I sang,
And trust my readership won't fade away.

Romantic love was yanked out of my hands,
But I at least appear to have some fans.
 
A recovery sonnet

One has to keep on trucking, though betrayed;
Today, I helped Sonata to prepare
The faerie fantasies to be displayed
In Santa Fe--September's two-day fair.

To Pueblo from Aurora takes so long,
And little was achieved--except a joke:
In Taco Bell, the speakers played the song
Called "Breaking Up Is Hard To Do!" This bloke

Decided that I might as well regard
It as a joke on me; I must believe
There's humor even in what stabbed so hard,
So I can chuckle slightly while I grieve.

I've smiled a time or three since Monday's crash;
I'll store the jokes in my survival-stash.
 
A Sonnet On Current Events


I went to church on foot today, to save
On gasoline, since right now every cent
Is precious, and I'm struggling to shave
Expenses down. But as I homeward went,

What should I see upon a bus-stop bench?
A Little Caesar's pizza box, which held
A whole uneaten pizza! What a wrench
To see such waste! Outraged, I could have yelled.

In fact, I almost ate the thing myself;
But with my luck, I would have gotten sick.
I've woes enough without endangered health;
But still, it seems a mean, sadistic trick

To waste food, when some folks are poor as dirt;
Somebody's brain, somewhere, is too inert.
 
Wow Copper...
It's SO true. People in our nation just waste without a second thought!!! You can support a child for a whole month in Haiti for around $25. Can you imagine alllll the children we could support if people would take the money they waste and use it for the children?!

GREAT sonnet!!!
 
a tired sonnet


It's actually a sign of my fatigue
If I let one more sonnet now be born.
The style's become familiar; it's my league;
' Twould be more work to use a different form.

I read the Book of Romans through last night,
Then did some Russian work today; but still
There is no new romantic love in sight;
Enthusiasm wanes, as does my will.

Next month I'm at the Santa Fe Ren-Fair:
Just going through the motions, truth be told.
I'll try, of course, to please the patrons there;
But if some lovely lady, acting bold,

Pretends to find me handsome and so nice,
My thought will be, "No, you can't fool me twice."
 
An Experimental Sonnet!

I'll aim this time at all internal rhyme:
Each line with sounds matched up within its bounds.
That's passionless, yet still may cause me stress;
Can such a scheme last through the lines fourteen?

It keeps my thought off Shannon, since I ought
To move ahead, although a hope lies dead.
Be of good cheer, I'm at the mid-point here!
I recognize this as an exercise

With verses born in a restricting form.
I'll finish, then I won't do this again;
My point is proved, but readers won't be moved
To sobs or tears as my brain turns its gears.

Thus will I do the closing couplet, too;
This has been fun, but now I'm glad it's done.
 
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