Sonnet V: All About Me

Again, doth stir in pretty slumber so,
But slight, her waking; dreameth then of he
Whose bearing and whose presence seemed unique.
And he, of small advantage, seemed as wise;

Yet hardly did aware, he seem, nor know;
Was more, that either view, than blind decree.
About him still, so more than just mystique;
Yet not conceit, as others she’d surmise.

And of his expertise, might nothing show;
Unless such confidence she chanced to see.
And might she little know of such technique,
Unless through conversation might surprise.

Though not precisely modest, I’d agree,
My love wouldst speak my greatness (most unwise!)

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

Permalink

Follow-Up on Teaching Sonnets | Wanderings in the Labyrinth

A comment I wrote for a recent post caused me to revisit a few things and write the following comment; which once again, is a far too lengthy one  not to make of it a regular post.

I am at a loss to explain why you eschew iambic pentameter in your form exercise, as you say, “even if the poem makes no sense.” Although “One thing at a time” might be a guess at your answer–which certainly would make a degree of sense. Still the iambic rhythm is most definitely a thing to get ones head around.

Permalink

Continue reading

Sonnet: Favourites

I set myself this task and then I’m free
To fly abroad to anywhere I choose;
With confidence, assisting in my prime
Companions’ search with nothing I might lose.

They might or mightn’t choose to let me be;
Though never doth their circumstance confuse
My only wish as yearns to take this time,
That this, a burden is, to disabuse.

And clearly, doth my love, to this degree,
Encompass all their lives, and to suffuse
Complex, with all its mystery, this crime
With eager resolution. Know I whose

Bleak life shall see enrichment that ensues?
‘Tis mine, so lifted, by this double muse.

Permalink

Sonnet: Stardate – 50419.1…

My love has wings–slender, feathered things–
With grace in upswept curve and tapered tip,
My love would soar–swiftly to adore–
So twisting ever toward, and graceful skip.

So dances she–round and round to be–
Enrapt to bring us care, to bind us kept,
My love should know–you, my love, bestow–
Your Own, as did He dance and graceful stepped.

For now as wed… They–Our Love has said–
Would bear us swiftly hence as spectral ships;
So lovely They–So lighted, Their display–
That would illuminate our Earthly trips.

And lovely see–you and I–as We…
Take flight, as when I tasted first your lips.

  • once more for Gene.

Permalink

Intro: 1996

Only natural,
That I should try this modern
Canopian form.

Permalink

Sonnet: His Nightingale Woman

My Love hath wings–slender, feathered things–
With grace in upswept curve and tapered tip.
My Love doth soar–swiftly to adore–
So twisting ever toward, and graceful skip.

So danceth She–round and round to thee–
Enrapt to bring us care, to bind us kept.
My Love doth know–thou, my love, bestow–
Thine Own, as did He dance and graceful stept.

For now as wed… They–Our Love hath said–
Would bear us hence anon as spectral ships;
So lovely They–so lighted, Their display–
T’would ere illuminate our Earthly trips.

And lovely, we–Love and I, and thee–
Take flight, as once I tasted first thy lips.

  • For Gene Roddenberry:
    And, to his memory;
    Who, in all probability,
    And, so very long ago,
    Penned the first two lines.

Permalink

Intro: Gene Roddenberry

Have now

I gone

To where

Before

No man

Hath gone

Rest thou

G R

In peace

Permalink