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Humility--a sonnet

February 23rd 2009 01:08


When I went out to shed my dismal mood
Despite the driving snow that made my vision blurred,
I saw a smear of dark within the white, a bird
That picked among the mounds for bits of food.

Within this blinding storm it seemed absurd
That any creature sought its supper in the cold--
Indeed, that any could withstand the uncontrolled--

And so I sought to sate its search, deferred

By frost: with seed in hand, so kind and bold,
I slowly stretched my arm out far so it could feed.
But then it spread its shining golden wings--no need
For charity--and soared to heights untold.

So flap your wings, you pretty bird, and fly away
To lands of ample seed; I, without your wings, will stay.

I wrote this sonnet based on an experience I had during winter break around Christmas-time. Like my writing professors keep saying, "write what you know." And I try to do that as often as possible.

I just made up this sonnet form, sort of combining the interlocking rhyme scheme of the Spenserian (ababbcbccdcdee) with the closed structure of the Petrarchan (abbaabbacdccdc). I'm sure other poets have written this style before, but if they have, I haven't read them--or at least I don't remember them. I really like both the Spenserian and the Petrarchan's structures, so I figured why not combine the best of both worlds?

Although I deviated from the standard, I still made sure it was tightly structured. Each quatrain started with one line of iambic pentameter, then 2 lines of iambic hexameter, then another line of pentameter. I.E. 1 10-syllable line, 2 12-syllable lines, then a 10-syllable line again. Short,long,long,short,short,l ong,long,short, etc. The ending couplet's first line is hexameter, the last is 13 syllables. I did it on purpose, since I wanted the last line to be sort of ponderous with the semicolon and the commas.


Speaking of commas, the syntax of the poem is never grammatically incorrect. I try, in all my poetry, to retain syntax and coherence, rather than sacrificing those things just for the sake of rhyme. Sometime soon I will start discussing grammar in poetry. What place does grammar have in poetry? Does poetry have to conform to grammatical rules? Even if someone says "no," there are so many "rules" of grammar that lend the language to extreme flexiblity that even if you think a poem is "grammatically incorrect" it probably is "correct."

Part of the challenge of writing poetry--at least coherent, knowable poetry--is how to utilize the language and its rules--especially punctuation--to bring meaning and robust life to your poetry. I'll talk at more length about punctuation in poetry and the controversies surrounding the subject at a later time.

I hope you all enjoyed the poem, and if anyone has any comments about it or anything else I said, feel free to chime in. I love a good dialogue! Have a good night everyone!
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Redemption by George Herbert

February 4th 2009 04:20
Having been tenant long to a rich lord,
Not thriving, I resolved to be bold,
And make a suit unto him, to afford
A new small-rented lease, and cancel the old.
In heaven at his manor I him sought;
They told me there that he was lately gone
About some land, which he had dearly bought
Long since on earth, to take possession.
I straight returned, and knowing his great birth,
Sought him accordingly in great resorts;
In cities, theaters, gardens, parks, and courts;
At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth
Of thieves and murderers; there I him espied,
Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and died.

Yay, another religious poem by a long-dead white guy. But seriously, I love this sonnet. The structure and form are so tight, and the diction is exactly precise. Rhythm is nice and easy but executed with intention; the poem is very concise--no wordiness here. Tight narrative feel, builds up tension, concludes with a powerfully hitting line.

No time to talk tonight; just mull over the power of this poem while I regain my sanity. See you all tomorrow!
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Shakespeare's Sonnet 73

February 2nd 2009 02:22
That time of year thou may'st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self that seals up all in rest.

In me thou seest the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which though must leave ere long.

Some clarification things first. "choirs" in the first stanza refers to choirlofts in churches. "By and by" means soon or presently. "Seest" was pronounced as one syllable, not like "see-est" as some people say today.

Basically, the speaker is comparing his old age to different things, and in the final couplet tells the lover to love him well, since he'll be gone soon. However, this poem isn't just a simple exercise in metaphor. The metaphor of the speaker as a tree in winter and as the day fading to night are poignant, but there's one things that makes these two images strange in this context: they don't stay in the deteriorated state. Spring comes and leaves and vitality return to trees; dawn comes and banishes the darkness of night. But the third image--the image of the fire--is final and irrevocable. It's almost like the speaker was subconsciously struggling with the concept of his own death, and finally accepted it before the end.

The fire metaphor is particularly interested once taken apart. The fire's ashes are compared to--what once was--the speaker's youth and liveliness which is now burnt out and is the cause of the fire's quenching. A very complex metaphor laden with possible meanings.

The poem is mostly iambic, but there are some spondaic substitutions ("BARE RUined," "DEATH'S SECond" etc.) that give the poem a sort of heaviness--a sense of reluctant admission. Then in the third stanza I read the third line as a dibrach and then a spondee ("as the DEATHBED") a strange wave rushing onto a firm rock in the midst of an otherwise flowing stanza. Even the rhythm of the poem reflects the speaker's psyche.

Aside from these aesthetic points, the poem is punctuated well: the punctuation marks give appropriate emphasis to certain words and phrases as well as giving the reader well-timed pauses to regain their breath.

This is a poignant, melancholy poem that changes seemingly negative images and concepts into something acceptable and inevitable. It has an aching beauty. This is definitely one of my favorite poems of Shakespeare.
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John Donne's Holy Sonnets #9

January 25th 2009 17:01
John Donne


If poisonous minerals, and if that tree


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Whose woods these are I think I know


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Messing with the Sonnet

January 16th 2009 22:36
"Grandpa"

He was the liveliest fossil on earth


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Spenser's Sonnet 37

January 12th 2009 03:29
This is a very late edition of Sonnet Sunday: my apologies. I just got settled back in at school, and the obligatory and inevitable welcoming of friends delayed this post considerably. It's still Sunday on the U.S. east coast, so that has to count for something, right?...Right?

Sonnet 37 from Sir Edmund Spenser's "Amoretti


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