Sonnet 10

With apologies for being unable to present a poem last week, (which was unusually busy for me), I present this, my final experiment with the Shakespearean form for this exploration. I'll continue exploring sonnets for a bit, however. I will most likely try composing only one or two sonnets in the other forms, (such as the Italian), as I don't wish to wear out sonnets in either my own mind, or in that of my readers. I imagine when in the future I come around to explore sonnets again after this cycle, I'll concentrate on a different form for the duration.

Yet for now, enjoy my final Shakespearean, or English sonnet of this exploration.

*

The morning after I have been with her
Is like a gutted homestead: void of life.
And all the wondrous things that did occur 
Carved from my soul with a serrated knife.
The memory of being by her side
(Intoxicating as it was last night)
Today is nothing but a wish denied.
An admonition resting in plain sight.
"She mustn't love you, if she isn't here,"
So says my brain as I still lie in bed.
"The emptiness you feel should make it clear.
"The girl's affections? Only in your head."
But every evening with her that I spend
Removes the morning's anguish in the end. 

Sonnet 9

This one gave me a bit of trouble for a while, as I worked with the proper meter in the mid-section. It amazes me how often the perfect line in my head is either nine beats or eleven when I write a sonnet. But I did, as you can see, eventually get the correct number of beats per line. (Though I did have to jiggle the accents a bit in some of the lines. Even Shakespeare did that.)

In the end, I'm satisfied with this one most because I was able to overcome the previously mentioned issues.

I think i will do one more standard Shakespeare style sonnet after this one, and then I will move on to other styles of sonnet, or otherwise be less restrictive in my composition. But that is the future. Until then, enjoy this latest poem.

***

If I could play with Time and rearrange
The order of the days already gone,
I'd only move the one (don't think me strange)
Though all the universe would be my pawn.
The day, but no! The moment that we met.
That's the one I'd steal with such a power.
How very close to perfect life would get.
Heaven at the top of every hour!
But all the hours since would still be there...
Still locked within my too sharp memory.
No mastery of time could make you care.
(Nor any other form of devilry.)
So I will live my good days and my bad.
I'll keep the happy, and get through the sad.

Sonnet 8

I experimented somewhat with this one, alternating the first word of two lines in a row between two words, and then having both in the closing couplet. The subject matter makes this effective, I think.

***

I can't pretend I've never thought of her.
I won't deny she's often on my mind.
She once was called an angel. I concur.
She is the gentlest person you will find.
I am aware of warnings from my friends.
I hear concerns about my mental state.
"She isn't right. You won't like how this ends."
"She soon will hurt you. She won't hesitate."
I see much more than any of them do.
I love the woman more, the more I learn.
She may not be the type that they would woo.
She doesn't have to be. Let me discern.
I am in love. I do not need consent.
She is the only one that need assent.

Sonnet 7

I'm somewhat satisfied with this one. I had to stretch the meter a bit more than I like to, so it's a tad clumsy near the middle, but it works as a sonnet overall, I think. Enjoy.

***

The perfect time of day to think of you
Would be an hour prior to the dawn.
Still dark enough for wishes to come true,
When all the doubts of yesterday are gone.
If I should wait until I see the sun
Before I let the thought of you arrive
Realities of day will have begun
Decreasing images I could derive.
Nor dare I think of you in dead of night.
Fatigue and worry occupy me then.
The middle of the day would not be right.
(I must devote my thoughts to work again.)
In truth, however, any time of day
You're apt to steal my every thought away.