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.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Friday, July 12, 2013
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.
*
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.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
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.
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.
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