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.