The Sonnet is my favourite poetic form. I love the discipline and logical flow. 14 lines. 10 syllables on each line. Rhyming according to which school one follows (or I often make my own rhyming pattern). Here are two examples from my oeuvre:
Part 1: The Blacksmith's Triumph These feeble words are formed of treasures now Concealed from light. (If left to age they fade, Like rays from far off stars, from here they shine As pinpricks; but in themselves they are suns). How can I keep you strong, my friend? How can I convince you of your beauty, hammered On the anvil of a life allayed by The planing swathe of sorrow's contention? For me, you gleam with inward power; my mind Both ravaged (and ravished) in elation. Is this the preface to a gulph unspanned? Are we now locked in unfulfilled embrace? Dancing in eternal hesitation For fear of rejection, frozen in space. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Part 2: A Gulph Unspanned Would that a hand could stretch across the span Which hangs between our secret dreams of love. Your yearning heart, from when we first began, Has wrapped itself around me like a glove. But will this fragile garment, like the sheath Of snakes and butterfly's cast off clothing, Dissolve into the dust and not bequeath Its limpid legacy (no gold I bring)? Are you just a phantom friend, imagined? A gentle bubble's rainbow reflection? Or will that pointed chasm soon be spanned (Your hand, or mine?) with purest affection? I think I read the answer in your eyes: Will we ensure it grows before it dies?
© 2010, Alan Morrison