Yesterday was Tuesday, which means Two-for-Tuesday day.
It's prompts: Write a sonnet or write an anti-form poem
Due to a busy baby-sitting day I shared
these, written a few days ago,
...but being a lover of form and sonnets I would like to try a few new ones today...
(okay...so I got the above paragraph typed before busy, busy day prevailed...but, not without some cutey-pie perks:)
Now it is night...
...let's delight in a sonnet or three, shall we?
There is such tender soul-romance in a sonnet's rhythm and rhyme...
The Shakespearean sonnet has the rhyme scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG, forming three quatrains (four lines in a group) and a closing couplet
(two rhymed lines). The problem is usually developed in the first three
quatrains, each quatrain with a new idea growing out of the previous
one.
Dear Lord, the love we have for fellowman
Is more than some grand deed of which we boast
For in the come and go of daily plan
We show, more than we know, who we love most
...and good intent, for all its good intent
Is nothing more than nothing much at all
Until with effort, true and diligent
We seek to fulfill more than duty's call
Then, when, if we are asked who we most love
Reply will rely on one simple fact
For the track-record of action will prove
Without a doubt, which laws of love attract
Then we should keep this Evidence in mind
For we love God by how we love mankind
© Janet Martin
By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."
John 13:35
Definition of Italian sonnet. : a sonnet consisting of an octave rhyming abba abba and a sestet rhyming in any of various patterns (as cde cde or cdc dcd) —called also Petrarchan sonnet.
The truth has nothing it must hide, but we
Against our better judgement oft ignore
The Very Thing that Truth is famous for
…it does not, cannot change its Verily
And so we hide the truth behind a lie
Hoping that no one notices our guilt
But beneath interrogation we wilt
As conscience-stricken blushes verify
The Very Thing we sought hard to deny
But woe to us with whom we have to do
In spite of uncanny tricks we may try
Words cannot alter that which remains true
It always makes fools of proud you and I
Because truth cannot change its point of view
© Janet Martin
...another English (or Shakespearean) sonnet
The moon hangs like a medal on black silk
...a prize, perhaps for races we have run
or is it the reminder of the ilk
that masters plans that we have but begun
beneath a sun that meters out man's days
where we gaze to and from the place we land
while the orbit of morn to morn soft-splays
a maze that we have yet to understand
for we are of small knowledge under God
and cannot know the thoughts of Providence
as He who instills seed that instills sod
without reminder unfolds evidence
that we are part of a great Master's plan
and all that we can do is all we can
© Janet Martin
