Sonnet Poems
#sonnet
Sonnet poems have fourteen lines, and may conform to a number of different formal rhyme schemes. Sonnet poems typically have ten syllables per line.
Rew
Poem Published
23rd Mar 2024 9:04am
23rd Mar 2024 9:04am
Song of Spring
There's a soft subtle change to sunlight now
perhaps bringing an echo of some spring,
and a great bustling sound now all around
the various garden birds twittering
within the still cold barrenness of trees
but, there's a kinda lightness to the rain
falling on the snowdrops on the browned green
of last year's grass, as the crocuses strain
to bring their colour into this new light,
and crisper brisk beats to people's swift feet
mimicking scudding clouds in their bright heights
in...
perhaps bringing an echo of some spring,
and a great bustling sound now all around
the various garden birds twittering
within the still cold barrenness of trees
but, there's a kinda lightness to the rain
falling on the snowdrops on the browned green
of last year's grass, as the crocuses strain
to bring their colour into this new light,
and crisper brisk beats to people's swift feet
mimicking scudding clouds in their bright heights
in...
#sonnet
92 reads
2 Comments
Rew
Poem Published
20th Mar 2024 5:22pm
20th Mar 2024 5:22pm
A Little Schooling...
It was the center of my childish days
replete with gas-lit streets and killer smog,
the walls, black-soot-pitted from acid rain,
and outside toilets where, sometimes, we'd snog...
But the hand-basins now just reach my thigh
and the rough Izal toilet paper, gone,
along with coal-tar soap this stung my eyes
but I recall we chorused great school songs,
and weaved gay candy-striped maypole ribbons
as to the ' keel row ' we high-stepped a reel,
or...
replete with gas-lit streets and killer smog,
the walls, black-soot-pitted from acid rain,
and outside toilets where, sometimes, we'd snog...
But the hand-basins now just reach my thigh
and the rough Izal toilet paper, gone,
along with coal-tar soap this stung my eyes
but I recall we chorused great school songs,
and weaved gay candy-striped maypole ribbons
as to the ' keel row ' we high-stepped a reel,
or...
#sonnet
80 reads
5 Comments
Rew
Poem Published
27th Feb 2024 9:01am
27th Feb 2024 9:01am
Let's hear it for the Stromatolites
T. dohrnii or the Stromatolite
which of these creatures would you rather be,
the hard-worked one, immortal, born to die
then reborn again thus, so endlessly?
Ah, poor T. dohrnii never knows peace
stressed or starved to death then forced to rebirth
a never ending cycle no release,
cursed to wander oceans and seas, of earth...
But Stromatolites, Earth's oldest life form,
a strange sleeping fossil made oxygen,
and kissed into life breathing as the norm
these five-hundred million years, just gone.
...
which of these creatures would you rather be,
the hard-worked one, immortal, born to die
then reborn again thus, so endlessly?
Ah, poor T. dohrnii never knows peace
stressed or starved to death then forced to rebirth
a never ending cycle no release,
cursed to wander oceans and seas, of earth...
But Stromatolites, Earth's oldest life form,
a strange sleeping fossil made oxygen,
and kissed into life breathing as the norm
these five-hundred million years, just gone.
...
#sonnet
81 reads
6 Comments
oskar
Poem Published
22nd Feb 2024 9:01am
22nd Feb 2024 9:01am
an item
the item
It is strange today, I feel sad
bought a new cell phone and sensed it was too expensive
I never liked spending money on myself makes
I feel guilty, like I do not deserve it.
I bought a suit when I was twenty a nice suit I bought
in Stockholm, it soon got too small, and I gave it
to my sister's husband.
Being the stinting sort, he wore it until it fell off.
When a child, I never wore anything new
only hand-me-down
I was OK with that.
The phone is black, and I feel intimidated by its sternness
when I switch it on,...
It is strange today, I feel sad
bought a new cell phone and sensed it was too expensive
I never liked spending money on myself makes
I feel guilty, like I do not deserve it.
I bought a suit when I was twenty a nice suit I bought
in Stockholm, it soon got too small, and I gave it
to my sister's husband.
Being the stinting sort, he wore it until it fell off.
When a child, I never wore anything new
only hand-me-down
I was OK with that.
The phone is black, and I feel intimidated by its sternness
when I switch it on,...
#FreeVerse
#prose
#sonnet
#triolet
#villanelle
89 reads
0 Comments
Rew
Poem Published
14th Feb 2024 8:39pm
14th Feb 2024 8:39pm
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...
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...
#sonnet
116 reads
5 Comments
Rew
Poem Published
13th Feb 2024 3:48pm
13th Feb 2024 3:48pm
To Shakespeare's sonnet 73.
I do see in you now the passing years
but then, you are several hundred years old,
still, your evergreen leaves shan't fall as tears
for your scribe scribed you in real solid gold.
Fear not honoured sonnet about black nights
for searching eyes will gleam on you en mass,
your sun shan't sink for all lust for some light
to but dimly gleam in your poet's glass.
In you rhymes light full raging fire's roar,
brighter, as the sweet birds singing sound dims,
knowing I too, shake 'gainst that closing door
where, behind, your writer's...
but then, you are several hundred years old,
still, your evergreen leaves shan't fall as tears
for your scribe scribed you in real solid gold.
Fear not honoured sonnet about black nights
for searching eyes will gleam on you en mass,
your sun shan't sink for all lust for some light
to but dimly gleam in your poet's glass.
In you rhymes light full raging fire's roar,
brighter, as the sweet birds singing sound dims,
knowing I too, shake 'gainst that closing door
where, behind, your writer's...
#sonnet
#historical
#WilliamShakespeare
112 reads
2 Comments
Rew
Poem Published
13th Feb 2024 9:05am
13th Feb 2024 9:05am
This Easter, Chicken?
Alas my poor Yoke is doomed to be fried
along with its cock or hen's albumen,
there was know way of knowing, I tried and tried,
but it had no chance, strutting Cock or Hen?
What? You egg! You'd spit your hot cooking fat
out, ouch, damned spot, you bellow for revenge?
I must now commit murder most foul... Splat!
a bust yoke, my fingers of toast descend
To a rapidly congealing egg yoke
perhaps I should've boiled the poor dead thing,
It's turning to be...
along with its cock or hen's albumen,
there was know way of knowing, I tried and tried,
but it had no chance, strutting Cock or Hen?
What? You egg! You'd spit your hot cooking fat
out, ouch, damned spot, you bellow for revenge?
I must now commit murder most foul... Splat!
a bust yoke, my fingers of toast descend
To a rapidly congealing egg yoke
perhaps I should've boiled the poor dead thing,
It's turning to be...
#food
#sonnet
90 reads
2 Comments
Rew
Poem Published
12th Feb 2024 5:54pm
12th Feb 2024 5:54pm
Blowing Home
It rattled windows it rattled my doors
it was whistling past in a rattling rush,
it rattled tea cups and saucers of course
carrying trees and a mulberry bush,
tin cans, newspapers, a disgruntled cat
dustbins, a slice of bread and beef dripping,
the winning home run from a baseball bat
giving buildings a whipping in passing,
careening round corners giving no heed
to pedestrians sticking them on " cross "
ignored the policeman's ticket for speed,
stripping bald men's hats off, it did! they're lost...
but,...
it was whistling past in a rattling rush,
it rattled tea cups and saucers of course
carrying trees and a mulberry bush,
tin cans, newspapers, a disgruntled cat
dustbins, a slice of bread and beef dripping,
the winning home run from a baseball bat
giving buildings a whipping in passing,
careening round corners giving no heed
to pedestrians sticking them on " cross "
ignored the policeman's ticket for speed,
stripping bald men's hats off, it did! they're lost...
but,...
#sonnet
95 reads
2 Comments
Rew
Poem Published
11th Feb 2024 3:01am
11th Feb 2024 3:01am
The Carr Academy i
I well remember my first day at school
dashing eager through Victorian doors,
beveled glass refracting rainbows, wood smoothed
by countless sweet-bribed kids, pushed through its maw.
And the dour-faced whelping who greeted me,
so high, so mighty, so imperious,
who yanked me away, seemingly with glee,
from the Wendy house saying " not for us! "
Ah well, she's far beyond chastisement now
and the indignities? Surely, I'll forgive,
for she must've got something right, or how,
could I be penning this, little missive? ...
dashing eager through Victorian doors,
beveled glass refracting rainbows, wood smoothed
by countless sweet-bribed kids, pushed through its maw.
And the dour-faced whelping who greeted me,
so high, so mighty, so imperious,
who yanked me away, seemingly with glee,
from the Wendy house saying " not for us! "
Ah well, she's far beyond chastisement now
and the indignities? Surely, I'll forgive,
for she must've got something right, or how,
could I be penning this, little missive? ...
#sonnet
68 reads
2 Comments
Rew
Poem Published
10th Feb 2024 6:53pm
10th Feb 2024 6:53pm
The Carr Academy ii
It was the old grey Carr Academy
where she, all stately dressed in granite stone,
waited to take and teach four-year-old-me
but did I hear my forebears fearful moans?
A school from the harsh Victorian age
erected in Eighteen-Seventy-Four,
when black-slate and chalk ruled not paper page
and teachers taught class by rote, lore and fear
My great-grandmother attended this school
as did four generations after her,
back then you'd be flogged for playing the fool
or not addressing the Masters as, sir... ...
where she, all stately dressed in granite stone,
waited to take and teach four-year-old-me
but did I hear my forebears fearful moans?
A school from the harsh Victorian age
erected in Eighteen-Seventy-Four,
when black-slate and chalk ruled not paper page
and teachers taught class by rote, lore and fear
My great-grandmother attended this school
as did four generations after her,
back then you'd be flogged for playing the fool
or not addressing the Masters as, sir... ...
#sonnet
70 reads
2 Comments
Rew
Poem Published
9th Feb 2024 4:22pm
9th Feb 2024 4:22pm
All my ai and Peggy Martin
My thesaurus and my dictionaries
serve as artificial intelligence,
my mute aide-memoire spells and solves the quizies
then by magic my word grasp is, immense...
And for guys getting in books can be, hot
to spread wide the covers 'gainst the stiff spine
try that with 'lectrics to see what you've got
a solid bet, a call to, nine, nine, nine...
Let the lazy ones dumb themselves right down
with pretty pictures captured on the net,
and a dozen words which didn't bring a frown
of concentration,...
serve as artificial intelligence,
my mute aide-memoire spells and solves the quizies
then by magic my word grasp is, immense...
And for guys getting in books can be, hot
to spread wide the covers 'gainst the stiff spine
try that with 'lectrics to see what you've got
a solid bet, a call to, nine, nine, nine...
Let the lazy ones dumb themselves right down
with pretty pictures captured on the net,
and a dozen words which didn't bring a frown
of concentration,...
#sonnet
#WritingPoetry
#PopCulture #rebellion
#PopCulture #rebellion
99 reads
2 Comments
Rew
Poem Published
8th Feb 2024 2:25pm
8th Feb 2024 2:25pm
Greasy Joan.
She piles greasy grub onto greasy plates
curlers in her hair fag stuck in her mouth,
she's known as greasy Joan to all her mates
two wrinkled stockings both, going down south.
They clatter in full of the cheapest beer
'' wotcha darling, gan on, flashus yer tits
egg'n chips all rahnd, gan on, be a dear.''
with 'loadsa' money but the cheapest wit.
She shakes chips, stirs tea, butters bread, fries eggs,
doles it out with a great dollop of beans
keels out the pot to get the last few dregs, ...
curlers in her hair fag stuck in her mouth,
she's known as greasy Joan to all her mates
two wrinkled stockings both, going down south.
They clatter in full of the cheapest beer
'' wotcha darling, gan on, flashus yer tits
egg'n chips all rahnd, gan on, be a dear.''
with 'loadsa' money but the cheapest wit.
She shakes chips, stirs tea, butters bread, fries eggs,
doles it out with a great dollop of beans
keels out the pot to get the last few dregs, ...
#sonnet
86 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Sonnet Poems
