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Tag Archives: Writing
Sonnet: The Evolution Of…
Things in life evolve. I, now uncaught on
Detail, resolve that haiku, when planned more
Strictly, will not break a single thought on
Separate lines. On the other hand, for
Sonnets, great shrines more strict, more pursuing
Sound; the stricture of both could recombine
With pressure when mixed together. Doing
Round numbers of haiku, would misalign
Within a sonnet. It makes me sigh, too;
For, on my honour, I’d cry if that myth
Were true. Instead, there must be eight haiku
To see it through; and then I combat with
Four pale sounds. And its sextet, for a
Tail, sports “etcetera, etcetera.”
Intro: Evolution
Things in life evolve
I, now uncaught on detail,
resolve that haiku,
when planned more strictly,
will not break a single thought
on separate lines.
On the other hand,
for sonnets, great shrines more strict,
more pursuing sound;
the stricture of both
could recombine with pressure
when mixed together.
Doing round numbers
of haiku, would misalign
within a sonnet.
It makes me sigh, too;
for, on my honour, I’d cry
if that myth were true.
Instead, there must be
eight haiku to see it through;
and then I combat
with four pale sounds.
And its sextet, for a tail,
sports “etcetera,
“etcetera.”
Sonnet: Heart’s Desire
First day I saw this Universe take flight,
My place within it firmly on the Earth,
And since that moment–from my second birth–
Did I begin to live amidst the light.
The second day I learned of what I might–
What stark perfection I would–never touch,
Nor even look upon but once. But such,
For lack of which, has swept me hence to night.
The Third, in all its perfect form, arrived
On Earth and granted all that I desire,
Left nothing by its dawning to aspire
Nor any by its dawning thus to strive.
So, having every life’s desire to choose
Leaves naught to gain and everything to lose.
Intro: Once again, do be careful:
Do you see how very
Precarious are those good things
Within all our lives?
Sonnet V: Her Majesty
A word, then two, a fountain like a stream
That wears away a mountain. Time, a spring,
Reflection over aeons; it can bring
Perfection. Though it presses down, extreme
In ways of mystery. Its form can seem
To press its history: On such a common thing
As common coal–transformative–may wring
A diamond fine and whole. And so supreme
A form may limit, yet such limits might
Become the set of forces pressed upon
So commonplace a line as these I write.
The queen of all poetic forms: I fight
Her storms of pressure, educated on;
And open up my mind to all her light.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 5: One more way to write
One more way to write
My favourite in stages,
First, second, and third.
David Emeron: Sonnets 