Sonnet Seeking Friendly Advice Poems
#sonnet
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Poem Published
15th Nov 2023 3:20pm
15th Nov 2023 3:20pm
This Thing.
I hate that deep, dark, cold of outer space
it mocks my feeble spark of being, so,
it's up there, lurking, but so in my face
with its life bringing ancient big bang glow.
It's waiting for my cold scattered ashes
this foul, heartless, dead but eternal thing,
to take my atoms like so much trash is
taken by trash carts though, I'll cling and cling...
It's the rotten fixed fate of emptiness
I shan't make a mark on space left behind,
this soap-bubble of my brief consciousness
will blink, snuffing out my life-spark...
it mocks my feeble spark of being, so,
it's up there, lurking, but so in my face
with its life bringing ancient big bang glow.
It's waiting for my cold scattered ashes
this foul, heartless, dead but eternal thing,
to take my atoms like so much trash is
taken by trash carts though, I'll cling and cling...
It's the rotten fixed fate of emptiness
I shan't make a mark on space left behind,
this soap-bubble of my brief consciousness
will blink, snuffing out my life-spark...
#sonnet
31 reads
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Poem Published
10th Nov 2023 9:48pm
10th Nov 2023 9:48pm
Shakespeare Soliloquizing at Home
To be or not to be in London town;
plagued by armed bandit's in dog-turd strewn streets,
arse racked bloody on lame nag's rough ride down,
and greets by sicked, pox-pricked-bawd's beggar's bleats?
Foul beer, stinking bacon and bed's be damp
where Taverner's are filthy cheating rogues,
the roiling smog brings ague, my hand cramps,
chance of hen's teeth, not whole clay-pipes to smoke...
But friending's there, Burbage and Marlowe,
if alive and our Globe, if not burnt ash,
I've new...
plagued by armed bandit's in dog-turd strewn streets,
arse racked bloody on lame nag's rough ride down,
and greets by sicked, pox-pricked-bawd's beggar's bleats?
Foul beer, stinking bacon and bed's be damp
where Taverner's are filthy cheating rogues,
the roiling smog brings ague, my hand cramps,
chance of hen's teeth, not whole clay-pipes to smoke...
But friending's there, Burbage and Marlowe,
if alive and our Globe, if not burnt ash,
I've new...
#fiction
#sonnet
#historical
62 reads
5 Comments
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Poem Published
25th Aug 2023 9:32pm
25th Aug 2023 9:32pm
I Wandered Through Each Chartered Street.
" I wandered through each chartered filth, filled, street
to eye things the poor are suffered to own;
rags, disease, high-rent slums, death, as a treat...
and in my impotence I can only groan.
The doorway sleepers, the ragged children,
just gallows fodder because they be poor,
boys and girls, hard labourers at age ten
no help, the rich bought out Jesus's roar..."
And today, (I am sick of all their Cant)
tents in streets of that, richest land of all, ...
to eye things the poor are suffered to own;
rags, disease, high-rent slums, death, as a treat...
and in my impotence I can only groan.
The doorway sleepers, the ragged children,
just gallows fodder because they be poor,
boys and girls, hard labourers at age ten
no help, the rich bought out Jesus's roar..."
And today, (I am sick of all their Cant)
tents in streets of that, richest land of all, ...
#sonnet
43 reads
0 Comments
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Poem Published
24th Aug 2023 3:57pm
24th Aug 2023 3:57pm
This Fierce Flame.
When my sun goes down into that strange west
and my thoughts float away far past my eye,
and dimness creeps on at the grave behest
of the grim reaper's not so subtle sigh...
If I have strength left at my going, dear,
to be able to raise up one last praise
to show that my love was nowhere near mere
but a passion within some tender craze,
For in me now I have such a fierce flame
bordering on sweet apoplectic rage,
that Satan itself, if called by its name,
couldn't drag me to its dark, soulless, page.
And...
and my thoughts float away far past my eye,
and dimness creeps on at the grave behest
of the grim reaper's not so subtle sigh...
If I have strength left at my going, dear,
to be able to raise up one last praise
to show that my love was nowhere near mere
but a passion within some tender craze,
For in me now I have such a fierce flame
bordering on sweet apoplectic rage,
that Satan itself, if called by its name,
couldn't drag me to its dark, soulless, page.
And...
#sonnet
52 reads
0 Comments
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Poem Published
21st Aug 2023 7:32pm
21st Aug 2023 7:32pm
Reflection of Lesbos
I made up to her with all my power
I charmed and wooed her with patience and tact
though I've heard unwatered wine is quicker
I made do with truffles yeah, that's a fact.
We wined and dined went to the theatre
did those moonlit walks and all that jazz
I took her home to meet my patriatea
to wow her with their titled, razzmatazz.
And when we kissed and caressed each other
our soft limbs invoking far softer sighs,
we loved each other like no other lover
seeing reflected Lesbos, in our eyes.
So it...
I charmed and wooed her with patience and tact
though I've heard unwatered wine is quicker
I made do with truffles yeah, that's a fact.
We wined and dined went to the theatre
did those moonlit walks and all that jazz
I took her home to meet my patriatea
to wow her with their titled, razzmatazz.
And when we kissed and caressed each other
our soft limbs invoking far softer sighs,
we loved each other like no other lover
seeing reflected Lesbos, in our eyes.
So it...
#sonnet
82 reads
7 Comments
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Poem Published
17th Aug 2023 10:50pm
17th Aug 2023 10:50pm
Aberfan
Aberfan: I hear weeping in the Welsh lilt
of the shocked news readers who will stun their world,
with, forty-four adults, who that day were killed,
and one hundred sixteen children, had not heard,
the slithering black tidal wave of slurry
smear its first prey, Hafod Tanglwys Uchaf,
on its way to Pantglas Junior School, a blurry
monster to kill children their school and its staff...
Nineteen sixty-six. A million ton of coal waste,
a wave forty-feet high rushed down a mountainside,
to Merthyr Vale mine and destroyed...
of the shocked news readers who will stun their world,
with, forty-four adults, who that day were killed,
and one hundred sixteen children, had not heard,
the slithering black tidal wave of slurry
smear its first prey, Hafod Tanglwys Uchaf,
on its way to Pantglas Junior School, a blurry
monster to kill children their school and its staff...
Nineteen sixty-six. A million ton of coal waste,
a wave forty-feet high rushed down a mountainside,
to Merthyr Vale mine and destroyed...
#sonnet
65 reads
3 Comments
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Poem Published
15th Aug 2023 10:11pm
15th Aug 2023 10:11pm
Shattered Illusions, Shattered Hopes...
It's cool, when naïve, to be forgetful
in recalling sad-folk's cruel put-downs
as glitches, and still think life, beautiful,
and carry on, but placed by them, a clown?
It seems to me the power of one's peers
shatter hopes, expectations, illusions,
and I am thinking here of this place, here,
which denigrates one's honest, effusions...
Take this form, reviled and denigrated,
If not in fact certainly in their reads,
I had hoped my art here would be fêted
an illusion, my naïvety breeds?
So, you...
in recalling sad-folk's cruel put-downs
as glitches, and still think life, beautiful,
and carry on, but placed by them, a clown?
It seems to me the power of one's peers
shatter hopes, expectations, illusions,
and I am thinking here of this place, here,
which denigrates one's honest, effusions...
Take this form, reviled and denigrated,
If not in fact certainly in their reads,
I had hoped my art here would be fêted
an illusion, my naïvety breeds?
So, you...
#sonnet
91 reads
8 Comments
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Poem Published
15th Aug 2023 11:17am
15th Aug 2023 11:17am
Sonnet Blank
This is my dead-worded practice sonnet
just a place marker for some future work,
when I've got a theme I'll get on with it
but at the mo' my muse is such a jerk.
I need lots & lots of description things
words, that's the stuff I should be searching for,
word ain't got no direct synonym, jings!
just lots of expressive terms, what a bore...
Penning the blank out that was such a cinch
now I need some verbs, adjectives and nouns,
if only I could recall which is which
hell, I could have real fun and go to town! ...
just a place marker for some future work,
when I've got a theme I'll get on with it
but at the mo' my muse is such a jerk.
I need lots & lots of description things
words, that's the stuff I should be searching for,
word ain't got no direct synonym, jings!
just lots of expressive terms, what a bore...
Penning the blank out that was such a cinch
now I need some verbs, adjectives and nouns,
if only I could recall which is which
hell, I could have real fun and go to town! ...
#sonnet
66 reads
3 Comments
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Poem Published
13th Aug 2023 4:30pm
13th Aug 2023 4:30pm
Petrarchan #1.
At times, square words can make a wobbly fit
in sonnets round-holed-ten-syllabled-lines,
I find planes and spoke-shaves used on rhymes
can shape them suckers up if used with wit.
Chisels help, also sandpaper, fine grit,
and one or two glasses of Rhenish wine,
don't forget glue, a vice, butcher's strong twine
to clamp all, as you fight to fit the bits...
If your write takes on drab assumed languor
take care to give your thumb a timely whack,
the better to cure that lazy canker
and put poetic passion, back on track! ...
in sonnets round-holed-ten-syllabled-lines,
I find planes and spoke-shaves used on rhymes
can shape them suckers up if used with wit.
Chisels help, also sandpaper, fine grit,
and one or two glasses of Rhenish wine,
don't forget glue, a vice, butcher's strong twine
to clamp all, as you fight to fit the bits...
If your write takes on drab assumed languor
take care to give your thumb a timely whack,
the better to cure that lazy canker
and put poetic passion, back on track! ...
#sonnet
49 reads
2 Comments
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Poem Published
7th Aug 2023 5:08pm
7th Aug 2023 5:08pm
You Insignificant Thing
O you little insignificant thing
wearing your pink nakedness like a blush,
standing proud there on my old biscuit tin
all the blood gone to your brain, in a rush.
Shall I grate you up, make a carrot cake,
a scrumptious treat with a hot pot of tea?
Oh, what a lovely sound you well may make
a rousing new Beethoven symphony?
Shall I chant some more, wicked, wicked spells,
and pierce you through and through with needles sharp,
to send your agonized hide straight to hell
where you can still barf,...
wearing your pink nakedness like a blush,
standing proud there on my old biscuit tin
all the blood gone to your brain, in a rush.
Shall I grate you up, make a carrot cake,
a scrumptious treat with a hot pot of tea?
Oh, what a lovely sound you well may make
a rousing new Beethoven symphony?
Shall I chant some more, wicked, wicked spells,
and pierce you through and through with needles sharp,
to send your agonized hide straight to hell
where you can still barf,...
#sonnet
98 reads
4 Comments
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Poem Published
1st Aug 2023 8:46pm
1st Aug 2023 8:46pm
Hans Christian Andersen Revisited.
Crank up a mouth-powered lie weaving loom
churn out yards and yards of transparent lies,
this warped weft weaves a suit designed to groom
the fool and pull wool over many eye.
And It's a broad, sharp suit, a wrought writ suit,
covering the way from brass neck t' rump,
folk blind to it's rightness deemed commie brutes
if this suit stitched up, they're for the high jump!
The pattern, marked by cheap shyster lawyers,
that they've combed out of children's fairytales,
it seems it's children judged to be buyers
blinded by...
churn out yards and yards of transparent lies,
this warped weft weaves a suit designed to groom
the fool and pull wool over many eye.
And It's a broad, sharp suit, a wrought writ suit,
covering the way from brass neck t' rump,
folk blind to it's rightness deemed commie brutes
if this suit stitched up, they're for the high jump!
The pattern, marked by cheap shyster lawyers,
that they've combed out of children's fairytales,
it seems it's children judged to be buyers
blinded by...
#sonnet
66 reads
0 Comments
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Poem Published
17th Jul 2023 3:35pm
17th Jul 2023 3:35pm
This Past Future Forager.
September? I shall be a forager...
as I ride Autumn's woodland's bridle paths,
trailed by belladonna's sweet aroma
and the shock of bright blue-flowered wild flax.
I have marked sweet apple; crab-apple trees,
blackberry, hazel tree's nuts, squirrel-like,
and I shan't do battle with working bees
for they guard their King, sleeping, in the hive...
There is Shakespeare in woodland and hedgerows
his bitter rue, the three witches hedge-pig, ...
as I ride Autumn's woodland's bridle paths,
trailed by belladonna's sweet aroma
and the shock of bright blue-flowered wild flax.
I have marked sweet apple; crab-apple trees,
blackberry, hazel tree's nuts, squirrel-like,
and I shan't do battle with working bees
for they guard their King, sleeping, in the hive...
There is Shakespeare in woodland and hedgerows
his bitter rue, the three witches hedge-pig, ...
#flowers
#nature
#sonnet #WilliamShakespeare
#sonnet #WilliamShakespeare
128 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Sonnet Seeking Friendly Advice Poems
