Sonnet Central Submissions
- Piano Muse by Laura Hale (Menlo Park, California; received
- Impressions by Ian Hildebrand (age 15; received 11/23/99)
- Sonnet to my Beloved 1 by Christian Holihan (age 24;
Cincinnati, Ohio; received 2/9/00)
- Fourteen Liner by Marie Gerard Hagan (age 38; Virginia;
- Yellow Rose by Jillian Haldeman (age 17; New Zealand;
- Sonnet #14 by Sandra L. Hatch (Lumby, British Columbia,
Canada; received 3/6/00)
- Mistake by Melissa Hansen (Los Angeles, California; received
- My Life by Mystique L. Harper (age 13; New Jersey; received
- Aunt Liz by Frank Hajzer (age 13; Burlington City, New
Jersey; received 4/7/00)
- IV by Jonathan Hayes (California; received 4/17/00)
- Coke or Speech by Steven Henry (age 16; Austin, Texas;
- From Love Comes Poetry by Thomas Harrington (age 15;
San Francisco Bay Area, California; received 5/19/00)
- To the Stars by George Hill (age 16; Ontario, Canada;
- Elegance by Jonathan Martin Heinze (age 17; Bowling Green,
Kentucky; received 6/1/00)
- Ode to Summer by Zack Hendrickson (age 16; Arizona; received
- Friends Forever by Jaclyn Hayes (age 14; Glen Cove; received
- Waiting to be Filled by Kathryn M. Hale (age 17; Oregon;
- Ode of a Humpty Grumpty by Stan Hedges (Cambridge, England;
- Still with Me by Amber Humphrey (age 18; Vian, Oklahoma;
- Love is Lost by Daniel Caleb Harbison (age 18; Vian,
Oklahoma; received 2/15/01)
- Old Reunion Sonnet by A. Dale Hilliard (Iowa; received
- Western Civilization by Ashley Ivy Huizenga (age 18;
- The Right Choice by Jacqueline Hill (age 13; received
- NEWER SONNETS -
One minute he conducts a dazzling display--
my fingers -- controlled, yet loose and wild,
untethered by doubt, brazen as the child
who, sprung from his goddess motherĦs cave,
spied a turtle and knew at once to scrape
the green-grey marrow and make a lyre
of the shell. Crowing in concert of our guile,
we perform a fiendish genius cabaret.
The next-- heĦs bored; craves untried sport,
another trick-- and IĦm left high and dry
shuffling solo with mismatched chords,
slower than the fated tortoise-- every note a lie.
The audience sighs, withdraws support,
closes weary eye after eye after eye.
It comes and goes like a feast for the starved.
Fantastic secrets of which there are few.
Slices in the river often are carved,
And many minds are left standing askew.
By flow of land or dents made in the sea.
You create your own, your medium: clay.
Weave the carpet, walk it and you shall be.
Sit still and forever here they will stay.
Swallowed by the sand or tearing grey whisps,
Knitting the soil or placing the edges.
The last grain has fallen and lava crisps.
All has been cast off of mammoth ledges.
And now, when everything has been ceased,
Will you be taken, remade, or released.
Sonnet to my Beloved 1
Amazingly I found the one who loves
without reservation, who gives me life
and hope and breath. Someone who stirs and moves
my heart to tears, ne'er causing hate nor strife.
My love adjourns from her daily duties,
faithfully cleaving herself to my heart.
She loves me! Not by force or by duty
that wears thin, causing the weakened to part.
I stand awed, knowing that even the trees
blush aside shamed by your beauty. Wonder
overcomes my soul and springs inside me.
I grow faint, I desire no other.
Through time and to'l and all hostility,
I found the one for all eternity.
It is a curious conglomeration of words
Tried and mastered by the greats,
Rossetti, Shakespeare, Tennyson and Yeats,
Where punctuation finds no restricted accords,
What is natural, not confined, affects its rewards:
Sentences, clauses, and phrases are not its straits:
Images, sounds and if-you-do rhymes determine its fate.
Ah, but there are some fixed forms
Like that certain familiar fourteen liner,
Most eminent of the complete poems,
Yet, alas--nor is not subject to any norms:
Shelly's "Ozymandias" refuses fitting any class
Shakespeare's double negatives incites moans
And this, a first attempt, don't ask.
Shall I compare thee to a yellow rose?
Thou always art lovelier and fairer
Winds of life sprinkle rain on your sweet nose
If anyone should know it's you, I care
Sometimes too long before the cherries bloom
The pink complexion of your sweet blush
Your hairs, when touched like a sweet plume
I see your lovely face, thy face all flush.
From a glance I see your lush golden hair
Thy sparkling brown eyes shine in the fair sun
Ah but what a lovely lady how fair
Dancing with you under sunlight quite fun
So long as the warm summer will never end
In all of my love for you, will not end
Oh man of action, why must you posture
Like golden statue transfixed on jewels.
Ye work clay to immortalize sculpture,
Yet cast perception through empty pools.
It is the eyes, always the eyes, that lack
The vision of light that is essential
To a great piece of art. Puddles to black
Stonewall thy gift of certain potential.
Always a glimpse of a flaw turns my guise.
I delight in the skill of perfection,
Where the all of emotion spirit the eyes,
And capture the climax of expression.
Did not the Gods discipline creation,
Then give man freedom to achieve the prize?
You bet I couldn't reach the Southern Cross:
That starlit blossom rope at midnight hours;
Your own attempts had led to bitter loss;
Despite your climb up white cathedral towers.
In youthful pride I said I'd prove you wrong,
And with my Venus cap I took to flight;
My frenzied state knew not mind's warning song;
I chided darkness in my search for light.
With trembling hands I grasped that evening flame,
And boldly placed God's temple in your arms;
The consequence of making such a claim?
Incessant burns: we suffer still its harm.
I stole what wasn't ours in blindness bold;
I was in love: my eyes the truth did fold.
I sing of Limp Bizkit, Nirvana, and Korn,
Of Creed, but I don't like the song called "Torn,"
I dream of angle, clouds, dolphins, and cars,
Of pets and also big chocolate bars,
I write of school, love friendhip, and memories,
Of heartbreak, t.v., and climbing tall trees,
I dream of college, dorm rooms and more,
Of my family in tears as I walk out the door.
Of cucumber melon and tangerine spice,
Of freshia, country apple, and everything nice,
I write of dogs, cats, birds, and fish,
Of pigs that wouldn't like to be put on a dish,
I dream of all things on this earth,
The nice things, the bad things, for all that it's worth.
Aunt Liz was close to God, our father above
everyone loved her in my family
when I think of her I think of deep love
one day just lke her, I would like to be
She baby sat me when my mom was busy
when she was with me she turned into a kid
I went to malls and zoos with Aunt Lizzy
she loved the games we played as much as I did
Whenever together we were best friends
in my childhood I hated when we were apart
she helped me acheive and straightened my bends
she was there to help me, right from the start
Now she's up in heaven, a much better place
and she'll look down on me with her shining face
As air grew drier, dust thickened, & he wallowed untrimmed.
A hundred cows collapsed, their ribs spoke, "You will also fade."
The once-green leaves at the tip of meat & bone branches dimmed.
Deep-smile of inner body left & took a siesta under an oak's shade.
Wheat bent backward in sorrow as in its last pirouette.
The old man on the cliff sacrificed another goat to the sun, so the blood would sow.
Weather lost its patience -- no longer temperate.
Babies stopped feeding, & fingernails would not grow.
Clairvoyant prostitutes knew worse stood ahead for it was only May.
Asking self & soil's wealth, why does the scarecrow have more flesh than thee?
Stomachs crusted, green moss fell from rocks; an hourglass of survival each day.
Afternoon wind blew the settled dust from rooftops & trees -- one could not see.
A cycle as ancient as memory itself; each season declines.
The corpse of a failed harvest gives richness to the golden hills & all that shines.
Coke or Speech
I want to practice my speech everyday.
I want to learn to say give me a coke.
Or maybe ask how much money to pay.
I might even want a cherry coke float.
I could talk to the parrot on T.V..
That pops the top on a coke then glub glubs.
If I buy a coke for my girl and me.
But my mom won't let me go in a pub.
If I improve my speech I can keep score.
I can argue with my tennis players.
When tennis balls land inside the lined floor.
With speech, I can tell them to go or stay here.
I want to practice my speech everyday.
I want to talk with my friends and play.
From Love Comes Poetry
I know not words that fit my angel's eyes,
Or words that cling to all my lover's care;
If ever I read words that spoke her cries,
I'd scold them at the plagery they dare;
In love, meer words: they pale to feelings true;
Try not to capture feelings with a pen,
But translate love through writing, if you do,
Then through-and-through your love will reach no end;
Indeed, a poem's power is devine,
But never can it take the place of love,
Consider it not flesh, nor blood, but mind,
And never will it kill the love thereof;
So yes, it breathes your soul in words, but still,
A poem takes not place of love to fill.
To the Stars
I lie awake wrapped in the blanket night
Arched overhead the dew of heaven shines
Which, unobscured by man's most modern light,
once formed great heroes, joined by man-made lines
These Gods, more formed by observation
than measure of the void they sought to fill
Shine just as bright in my imagination
as ever they have done, or ever will
But suddenly the streetlights pierce my eyes
and turn the sacred night to garish day
I watch, through tears, as sweet Diana dies
For modern man did nights kind goddess slay
If ever from our errors man does learn
perhaps the magic spirits will return
There is a strange and blissful cur that drains
and draws the life of all that has value.
It makes one sad to see its pale birth strains,
and watch the vital breath give way to new
exciting colors of gray eve. The light
which fades makes all the world around it dark.
It is a marvelous and dreary sight
to see as angels flutter down to hark.
Though often demons claw their way t'ward sky
to wait for he who may be clinging on
to pointless fear and hopeless sin. Death's sigh
must chill his mortal bones. The beggar cons
and charms away the poor foolĦs instrument.
I wonder, now. Shall this be how I end?
Ode to Summer
It's summer, long days of sleeping and fun,
Camping with my home boys, bonfires and smores,
Parking the golf carts, taking a mile run,
Sneaking out in the boat, ditching Mom's chores,
Doing donuts on the Jet Ski with Jen,
Listening to music, is Napster all gone?
Reading Harry Potter, once more again,
Getting up at noon, thinking it is dawn,
Pontoon cruises, sneaking out in the car,
Attempting to wakeboard, painful but fun,
I'm happy, no cares, I feel like a star
No worries, just chillin', fun in the sun,
Saying goodbye to summer, no more pool,
I'm going back to the real world, and school.
People should have a group or a clique
A small group they can call their own
Friends together they will all stick
And talk the gossip on the phone
There to hang with on Friday nights
To go to the movies or mall
There to help in case of a fight
To catch each other when they fall
People to laugh and to joke with
To cry with during times of pain
People to share your secrets with
To walk home with in, through the rain
Everyone will be friends forever
Friends they will all be together
Waiting to be Filled
It seems again I've been misunderstood
Thought you'd be the one to see clearly through
Cause I have been invisible for good
When was it that I disappeared for you?
My skin is a vanilla birthday cake
It's hungrily before you to be sliced
And when there is no more for you to take
Pray swiftly to your so-called Jesus Christ.
My shallow grave is waiting to be filled
You'll be there dutifully with rake and spade
Tell everyone it wasn't me you killed
I've always wanted to abruptly fade.
After all it is love you would not lend
And it's my heart that could not mend.
Ode of a Humpty Grumpty
Amazed by mewling stars, untouched by time,
still puking, young as ever, wise men don't fear
old bones and death, for age can be sublime
when shifted to the lean and slippered year,
a welcome sea of calm. It's loss of sense
to music, passion, song and laughter, kiss
of wife or daughters, sun and rain, commence
to haunt him more. No life prepares a man for this.
Wrapped in vinegar and soft brown paper
half his battling breadth; nevertheless, how
(not why, or if) to applaud the lifelong caper
is what preoccupies his gazing--now
he knows no sages, no poets, no singing men,
can put Humpty Grumpty together again.
Still with Me
Everything remains the same in my heart deep,
I still see your eyes shinning back at me,
And will always see your smile when I sleep,