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Wife to Be (Petrarchan Sonnet)

I stroll along a fragrant country lane
With honeysuckle perfume on the air -
And feathered crooner's warble to revere -
Then cross a golden sea of flowing grain
In empathy - it seems to sense my pain
Of knowing all was done with my affair -
Her empty meaning now the solitaire
She cast away - betrothment all in vain.
But oceans team with many fish to catch
So I must up and hoist another sail
And seek the one that really waits for me,
For soon auspicious breezes will prevail
In guiding forth to find a truer match:
The one to take my hand as wife to be.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Sonnet Cycle to M C after W S Sonnets CXXXI - CXXXIX

Sonnet Cycle to M C after William Shakespeare Sonnets CXXXI - CLIV

[c] Jonathan Robin

CARE IS OUR DREAM

Sonnet Cycle after William Shakespeare: Part II
Sonnets CXXXI - CLIV

Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXI

Thou art so tyrannous, so as thou art,
As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel;
For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart
Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan;
To say they err I dare not be so bold,
Although I swear it to myself alone.
And to be sure that is not false, I swear,

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sonnet LX - Variations In Imitation - after William Shakespeare

See below W S Sonnet LX for English and French variations

Sonnet LX

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d,
Crooked eclipses ‘gainst his glory fight
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow
Feeds on the rareities of Nature’s truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow;
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth despite his cruel hand.

William SHAKESPEARE shak1_0008_shak1_0000 PST_DZX

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Don't Tell THe World! (Sonnet)

This Sonnet is in the popular Petrarchan Form

I behold thy love as beautiful thing,
In my wrecked heart, a pleasure garden,
Thy revered love, a blooming Eden.
A daisy tuft seasoned by bright spring,
Surging in moments that defeats waiting,
I behold thy words as a jeweled crown,
On my worn pages of despicable frown.
And thy memory feeds my mind dying,
Daring couple disclose, but don’t you tell,
About memoirs many encased and kept,
Say not thy chronicle, sweet as daisy smell,
Buried, not unseen to thy eyes except
Reveal not, the guarded stash of our love,
Lest a rational world desires to know! ! !

IA NOTE: For those who find the format unfitting to a sonnet!

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poem by Seema Aarella
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One Four Square Sonnet - Parody Shakespeare Sonnet CXVI

ONE FOUR SQUARE SONNET
Let's not into true marriage of two minds
Admit expedience. Love wears no kid glove
Which falters where fits, altercations, finds
Or ends when dumb observer would remove.
For lo! that marks stark feckless leaver, hark!
Tempest cooks cat's books, stands sturdy shaken,
Here, wild oats sown, dog-star to wandering bark,
Its birth unknown although its bow save bacon.
Since Love fools Time, lip-service cheeky rhyme
Within big spending tickle’s compass come,
O'er years piques havoc wreak, strange phantom mime,
Remaining edgy till wan wedge of doom,
Let be, if error writ, and on me proved,
Dumb see my wit, for no man clever loved.

30 October 1991 revised 14 July 2007 and 1 May 2010

robi03_0467_shak01_0022 PAS_LZX
Parody William SHAKESPEARE 1564_1616 Sonnet CXVI

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sonnet

My friend and me
My friend and me
Looking through her red box of memories
Looking through her red box of memories
Faded Im sure
Faded Im sure
But love seems to stick in her veins you know
But love seems to stick in her veins you know
Yes, theres love if you want it
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
Yes, theres love if you want it
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
My lord
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
My lord
Why cant you see
That nature has its way of warning me

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song performed by Verve
Added by Lucian Velea
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How do I parody? after Elizabeth Barrett Browning Sonnet XLIII How do I love thee?

How Do I Parody?

How true I parody! Let me count the ways.
I parody in depth, taste copy paste insight
My mind can reach into your writing quite
Through APing Ways and Means, through rhyme’s mainstays.
I parody to the level of everyday's
post hosting feed, by sun, electric light.
In vers libres freely, sonnet set to right;
I pastiche purely, rarely spurning praise.
Reparody with passion put to use
through griefs, beliefs, rehearsed, though wanting faith.
I parody love’s theme, who dreams accuse.
Newfangled paints b[l]end colour bending brea[d]th,
Smiles, tears, [p]rune poem’s life! - and, if judge choose,
gold goblets garner, googled after death.

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Polyacrostic Palimpsest - Birthday Sonnet - Entered is Diary

Notes on Polyacrostic Palimpsests.
.
Acrostic: Verse in which certain letters form a word or message
Polyacrostic: Several acrostics within the same composition
Acrostics to be found below – in alphabetical order:
His hand her hand [twice vertically]
Entered in diary [twice vertically]
Tend a nice heart [3 times vertically] – hopefully not an ice heart
Tender is her heart [4 times diagonally]

Palimpsest: A manuscript on which more than one text is written
with earlier writing, or one level of meaning, partially visible.

Polyacrostic Palimpsest - Birthday Sonnet - Entered is Diary

Toast verse! Oh birthday sonnet that strings true
E'er stanza knit free style, link in tress kind.
None letters scan - no need since star none find -
Deeds reader here disdains, nor head dreams cue.

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sonnet of Love

We stand on the ground
upon a turning page
brandishing like a banner in the wind.

Here in the branch of land
and the debris of its flipping leaves
and the page
that in its lines
absorbs the ink of our fate

the book that from the green ink of our phase
prints the unsettling song of its departures
with the words that
they seize hands to serenade

And to tune
the golden grove of our chests
when they burst in their love
and the white flutter of our wings
grafting

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poem by Hammadh Zareer
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Life's A Sonnet

life is a trumpet
every being responds to
a banquet
singing and joy corresponds to
a pamphlet
reading comprehends to
some bank it
some complements to

awaken is the wise
lost is the nice
fed with a jolly of rice
menu with a spice
bitter taste twice
as nice
some telling lies
and surely pay the price
but to reap a slice
you ought to sweat thrice
and ding dong like a dice

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poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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