In my estimation, there is never a bad time for a sonnet. Here's a great example.
Since I normally write Shakespearian sonnets, I thought I'd offer up the Italian form this week. Here are the basic guidelines to follow.
- A sonnet is composed of 14 lines written in iambic pentameter.
- The Italian sonnet is divided into an octave (8 lines), followed by a sestet (6 lines).
- The rhyme pattern for the octave is a-b-b-a, a-b-b-a. For the sestet the pattern can be c-d-e-c-d-e or c-d-c-c-d-c.
You can read more on sonnets in this great post by Kelly Fineman.
So, there's your challenge for the week. I hope you'll join me in writing a sonnet. Please share a link to your poem or the poem itself in the comments.
So, there's your challenge for the week. I hope you'll join me in writing a sonnet. Please share a link to your poem or the poem itself in the comments.
It's going to be in the 90's next week here...
ReplyDeleteSummer Sonnet
At first we smile and play when summer comes.
The sun is shining, trees are green and true,
the daisies bloom, the sky is brightest blue.
But then the heat begins to beat like drums.
Now listen to the summer’s guitar strums—
the green grass trembles when warm wind comes through.
Each morning gasps and wipes its brow, while you
grow hotter as the flowers’ bee crowd hums.
On days like this you dream of winter’s ice,
although on winter days you longed for heat.
The sky is pressing down, the sun’s too bright.
AC, ice cream, and lemonade are nice.
Go swimming at the pool down the street,
and hope the heat will slip away tonight.
—Kate Coombs, 2016
all rights reserved
Senior Recital 2016
ReplyDeleteWe - gathered in the room to watch you lay
your fingers on the keys - were taken first
at the sight of you. Our heart-strings fairly burst
with joy and love and pride as you made way
with barest effort, to rouse us from the fray.
Suspending day and place - all time reversed
from what we've ever known. Inciting thirst
for grandeur, just enough to give away
our hearts into your hands for you to break
with beauty. You take no small pleasure in
the gift you offer to our wonderment,
revealing both the whirlwind and the quake.
By your music we were overtaken,
baffled and enchanted, awed and silent.
©2016 Judith Robinson