Sonnet 16

With the following Italian form sonnet, (with a different CDCEDC sestant) I bring this exploration of sonnets to a close. I find this configuration possibly the most interesting of all of the Italian forms, with the orphaned "E" rhyme placed there in a powerful solitary position. So much was I fascinated by its possibilities that I almost extended my exploration of the sonnets for a while longer, in order to explore it alone.

But in the end, I decided that both my mind, and the blog have reached their fill of sonnets for now. I certainly intend to revisit them at some point, possibly starting with this very form. But for now, it is time to move on to another form. One that isn't quite so draining, perhaps.

As for subject matter, this is probably the most upbeat of all of the sonnets I have written. Sonnets are probably not generally associated with upbeat themes, but it feels appropriate to end my exploration with one that does so.

So next week, you will see something else. But for now enjoy this final sonnet of the exploration.

*

Assemble all precautions in your mind.
With relish now dismiss them one by one.
You'll feel much more alive when it is done.
We must move forward! Never fall behind!
Solicitude. Forgiveness. Being kind.
Protecting weaklings. Singing. Having fun.
To all, show mercy. Angry thoughts to none.
Don't let you better angels be denied.
The world is filled with every kind of strife,
And every day we face a simple choice:
Extend your empty hand, or wield a knife.
The former offers love, the latter fear.
Just put away the blade, and raise your voice.
Embrace the risks that come with living life.

Sonnet 15

This sonnet is of the same rhyme scheme as the previous sonnet of the Italian form. I find the form fascinating for reasons I got into in the last entry. I hope to do more of this pattern in a future exploration of the form, and I almost did so during this exploration, but next week will be my last sonnet for a while.

Until then, though, here is another in the Italian form. I find this one slightly better than my last one.

*

Apologies to those who would not care.
Within their mind, I never did them wrong.
Contrition from my heart would not belong.
Relationships that do not need repair.
Yet soon my life shall change. I must prepare.
My soul begins to sing a different song.
A fondness past that absence did prolong
Is now replaced by something that is rare.
My former loves for years had filled my dreams.
I'd conjure them when I was feeling weak.
I now relinquish my heart's hold on all.
(Save one who loves me truly now, it seems.)
Forgive me, Memories. I must withdraw.
No more your warm embraces will I seek.

Sonnet 14

I moved to another Italian form for this sonnet. The sestet has a CDE CED structure. It looks unnatural and not at all poetic for English, and at first it feels that way as well. Yet once I read the lines out loud, there was a certain fanciful yet organized meandering to the scheme, as though a poem in this form intends to follow a more symmetrical structure, digresses for a moment, and then remembers to right itself in the end. I wrote two in this pattern, but I think this one is the better of the two, even though I make use of a sort of unreliable narrator. I don't know if that is generally done with sonnets, but I did it with this one.

*

A tragic circumstance is not fair game
To contemplate new ways to woo and win.
I know the sort of pain she must be in,
But something stirs within me all the same.
Of all the selfish actions I could name,
The one I'm thinking of would be a sin.
I'm sure I'll get disowned by all my kin.
Such punishment is equal to my shame.
I don't enjoy the prospect of her pain!
And I could never cause it on my own.
Yet being there I cannot wish it gone...
I know the notion may appear profane,
That I appear to move her like a pawn.
But when I comfort her, I'm not alone.

Sonnet 13

Continuing with variations on the Italian form of the sonnet. I like the form of the sestet here, though I think it requires more thought and planning than does the Shakespearean form.

I leave the usual topic of romantic love or lust for this poem. I also have to play with word selection and sequence a bit more than I like. I'm happy to do it sometimes, but prefer to keep standard syntax when I can, though that simply isn't always possible when English is applied to the sonnet form. Especially more modern English. That being said, I wish I had done better with a few of the lines, and I wonder if sometimes I have enslaved myself too much to the specific meter, at the expense of a better poem. It wouldn't kill me to use a feminine ending or half-rhyme once in a while, I suppose. I am stubborn like that.

*

I will depart this place one final time.
No longer will I darken its front door.
It's like a second home to me no more.
My heart is off to find a better clime.
I'm hoping to forget just how sublime
That being here would make me feel before.
And gone the people that I did adore
Without a reason and without a rhyme.
If only I could leave my thoughts as well.
I do not wish to think of better days.
I wish instead to let my spirit roam,
And not within a memory-soaked hell.
To inner peace I have found many ways.
It all begins by leaving now for home.

Sonnet 12

This time a different variation on the Italian sonnet. I use the CDDCDC scheme for the the sextant.

Though I do enjoy linguistic challenges, and am new to this variation, I don't think I'll be working with it much more. It may have to do with the nature of Italian itself. I don't speak it, but it could be that the particularities of that language make this set up musical, whereas in English it feels clumsy to me, and almost arbitrary. I've no doubt I could improve with repeated attempts at this variation, but I found it uninspiring on the whole, and would rather not delve deeply into it during this exploration. Perhaps a future one.

By all of that as it may, here is what I composed pursuant to this variation. I had to stretch with this one a bit. Satisfactory, but nothing of which to be especially proud.

*

Within the realms of my exhausted mind
I am a here. And a villain. And a knave.
I cannot make my deepest thoughts behave.
They always leave reality behind.
No longer can I know how I'm defined.
My crumbling sense of self, I cannot save.
Perhaps I could if only I were brave.
(Or if the world had only once been kind.)
My true identity is lost to pain,
Obscured by years of being all alone.
By now, however, history has shown
That men like me are simply called insane.
But if my chance at peace has not been blown,
I have to love myself and try again. 

Sonnet 11

After a brief hiatus, I am back posting poetry. Still on sonnets, but this time, I have moved to the Italian form.

I'm happy to move on to another sonnet form. Sonnets are easy to understand, yet challenging to keep fresh when composing them on a regular basis. Switching off to another form has helped a bit. I won't be writing ten of each form, but I will be writing several Italian forms, due to the fact that the rhyme scheme for same can vary. That is to say the scheme for the final six lines (the sestet) can go any number of ways, historically. The octave, or the first eight lines is more set.

I've had experience in the past with an ABBA rhyme scheme, though not for sonnets. I enjoy  composing in this form as well as reading in it. The challenge with the sonnet is that I must do it twice within one poem, without repeating a word to end the line with. That was its own challenge. I've only composed one Italian sonnet so far, (that which follows), but I'll have to keep this in mind for future attempts.

This one has a romantic bent, but I don't think I'm going to hold myself to that theme as I play around with Italian sonnets. I'm more interested in exploring the form and meter, having kept the traditional theme throughout most of the Shakespearean sonnets.

I consider it an adequate first attempt, not fantastic. I hope to improve with the next few Italian forms.

*

The tender whisper of my name at night.
I cannot even see her gentle face.
There's not another sound from any place.
My doubts are out of mind, and out of sight.

She stops my hand as I reach for the light.
We lay in silence in our darkened space.
Our life proceeds for us at our own pace.
"Right now I only ask you hold me tight."

She never has to ask. "I give at will
The comfort and affection that you seek.
"I'll be right here, if you are well or ill."
The last that night that either of us speak.
When dawn approaches we are silent still.
She strengthens me when I am feeling weak.

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.

Sonnet 6

I like this sonnet. Not because it's the best use of the format, (though better than the previous example), but because it was fun to write, and I think has a fun theme. I get a little bit "meta" as they say, and mention poetry within the poem.

I've placed the volta in line nine this time, as it seemed to fit with the nature of the piece. It's not the most pronounced shift in tone, but it's there, it works, and as I said already, I enjoyed it.

***

I thought it was a mediocre verse

When first I came across it in a book.

Though many poems I have read are worse,

I did not give this one another look.

The words that move one man may bore the rest.

"To each his own," and all such platitudes. 

The doggerel of  some may prove the best

To other men with other attitudes.

And then the lady that I long to hold,

In casual discussion said to me

The very poem that had left me cold

Had always given her serenity.

So though it may have come to me too late,

I love the pretty verse I used to hate.

Sonnet 5

Many consenting people are kept apart not by the law, but by social norms that weigh heavily on them. This sonnet touches on some of that.

I like some of the lines, but overall I'm not satisfied with this one. I had to abandon iambic pentameter in several lines, for starters. Strictly speaking people write sonnets without it all the time, and I perhaps will intentionally during this exploration. But for now I was hoping to stick with iambic pentameter more consistently than I was able to with this one.

I also had to fall back on some common rhymes. They can't all be unique of course, but a few are a bit like plain white bread in the poetry world and I had to resort to a few of them.

I enjoyed the theme of this one, and had committed to it by the time these problem arose, so I didn't abandon it, and I put up the finished product here for you all to read and perhaps enjoy. But I had to be a bit patchy here and there. Still, not a bad effort, I suppose.

***

Oh take away the multitude of years.
Make insignificant our gap in age.
Ignore the condemnation of our peers.
For love, chronology can be no gauge.
Mere quantity of birthdays cannot be
A reasonable metric for the heart.
Be willing to accept the gift of me.
Why must it matter when my life did start?
If any love for me resides in you,
Let me rest my head upon your shoulder.
When you need comfort, I'll provide it too.
Please don't walk away because I'm older.
I need to let you be the age you are,
And I for now will love you from afar.

Sonnet 4

It's early, but this sonnet is probably the one I like the most so far in this exploration. Not perfect, but closest to what I feel the purpose and structure of these sonnets should be, strictly speaking.


***

I know a love that never can be seen.
The love I bare for her, and she for me.
Invisible devotion lies between
The two of us. Like islands and the sea.
The home and family with which she stands
And I cocooned within my loneliness
Unable to fulfill all love's demands.
Unwilling to acknowledge or confess.
I'll never hear her say "Forever yours."
Nor will I hear myself reply in kind.
I am the one I know that she adores,
Yet both of us pretend that we are blind.
Still, when she signs a note with my pet name
I feel as though we're married all the same.

Sonnet 3

Unlike some other forms of poetry, writing the sonnet, or at least in the proper fashion I am attempting, requires quiet time, free from most other distractions. It is a time consuming form which goes better for me when I set aside specific time to work on it. (Unlike say, haiku, which I can sometimes compose in spare minutes here and there, or with the TV muted during a commercial break.) Setting aside time to write a sonnet isn't always practical, but it is worth it when I do so. This makes me think I should put in the extra effort to do so for the rest of this exploration.

This sonnet came about during one such allocated block of time last week.

A deep conviction keeps your love at bay.
A passion we can never consummate.
I have no proof, but think that you would say
"It's not God's will." And I would say "It's Fate."
Dichotomy of faiths have often barred
What otherwise would yield a love sublime.
Esteem for one another would be scarred;
Sincerity would wound us in due time.
That within you which my heart would claim,
(The things I sense that you would freely give)
Would spark a conflagration all the same,
Destroying everything for which we live.
Though there are things we must not sacrifice,
The knowledge that we long to will suffice.

Sonnet 2

In this next sonnet, I tried putting the volta in the ninth line, and if you read it in a certain light, you can tell. But upon rereading, I don't think the mood truly does change until the couplet at the end. The natural pattern for me when composing Shakespeare style sonnets seems to be to place the volta in the couplet. I feel that is more natural as well as being more challenging; one must come up with two lines that change the momentum of the previous 12. Still, I plan to write some more with the volta appearing earlier. I will likely not mention it every time I do so, however, since if most readers can't find it, I;m not doing it well enough.

Here is the next sonnet:

Each night I lie in bed, deprived of sleep
Surrounded by the darkness of my room.
The memories I do not wish to keep
Fill spirit, heart and mind with bitter gloom.
A caravan of images invade,
Each one a gateway to a former bliss,
Reminders of how love has never stayed,
Reflections on the mark I always miss.
So many types of beauty have I held
With both my hands and sometimes with my heart
Divinity within me oft has swelled,
Though it be doomed to fade beyond the start.
If I have felt such pulchritude before,
No doubt I shall encounter it once more.

Sonnet 1

I now move on to sonnets. A few words about them before I share the first of them.

As with haiku, modern poets tend to call something a sonnet, and then proceed to invent any meter and rhyme scheme they wish. That is their right, but as I mentioned with haiku, I'm not sure what the point of following forms is, when one authorizes one's self to break any and all of the rules for same.

Not that there is only one hard and fast set of rules for a sonnet, as there are several varieties  During this exploration over the next few weeks I'll be composing sonnets of more than one formal structure, but I'll stick with one kind at a time, writing a few and then moving on to another variety when the time feels right. I may experiment with free verse sonnets near the end of the exploration, I haven't decided yet.

Actor that I am, I've decided to start with what's commonly known as the Shakespearean sonnet. (Though not invented by him.) Fourteen lines of iambic pentameter, three quatrains and ending with a rhyming couplet. Before the couplet, the quatrains generally follow an abab cdcd efef  rhyme scheme, and that is what I will do for now. (I will think about half-rhymes, like Shakespeare did, as needed.)

Many Shakespearean sonnets present the volta or change in tone, on the eleventh line, at  the start of the couplet. Sometimes the volta occurs on the ninth line, at the start of the final quatrain. I tend to prefer the former, but I will be playing with the latter as well.

Shakespeare himself usually confined his sonnets to matters of love or lust. While that topic will be covered by my own sonnets, I won't confine myself exclusively to that subject matter.

Finally, the point of a sonnet, or to me any poem, is to make breaks in meter come at natural breaks in a sentence, and that's what I try to do in my poetry. Breaking up a sentence at an awkward moment just to fit the meter is to me, usually cheaper.

And now, the first sonnet of this exploration.


So many things you do are not for me:
The easy smile. The tilting of your head.
The tapping foot you do not think I see.
How you refuse to drive, but walk instead.
You don't consider me before you write
The sentences and paragraphs you share.
Each time you read a poem with delight
It isn't done because you think I care.
A thousand little things that make you shine
Have earned for you a small place in my heart.
Yet none of them for others, I'd opine;
They would continue if I would depart.
But I consider that you've not been told.
It is a secret I prefer to hold.