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Poems On / About SONNET  11/1/2014 12:56:40 AM
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  117.     

This Isn't

This isn't a love song
Its a song about blood
This isn't a poem of hearts
Its a poem of broken love
This isn't a story about strength
Its a story about pain
And I'm not suicidal
Just fucked in the brain
This isn't a requiem for love
Its a requiem for my heart
This isn't the epitom of healing
Its the epitom of breaking apart
This isn't an epitaph for you
Its an epitaph for my gun
And I'm not depressed
I just hate everyone
This isn't an epiphany of sweet surrender
This is the epiphany of a whore
This isn't the epilogue of my life
Its the epilogue of many more
This is not a love letter
Its a letter to proclaim
Thats I don't want to kill you
Just blow out your brains
This isn't a haiku about succeeding
Its a haiku about how you fail
This isn't a sonnet about praising the lord
Its a sonnet about shattering the holy grail
This isn't a soliloquy about being fixed
Its a soliloquy about being forever broken
And I'm not obsessed
I just remember every word you've ever spoken
This isn't a broadcast about good weather
Its a broadcast about disaster
This isn't a sign to slow down
Its a sign to go even faster
This isn't an interlude of safety
Its an interlude of harm
And I swear I'm not sedated
I just have sedatives injected in my arm
 
Tatianna Rei Moonshadow

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  118.     

Over The Land Is April

OVER the land is April,
Over my heart a rose;
Over the high, brown mountain
The sound of singing goes.
Say, love, do you hear me,
Hear my sonnets ring?
Over the high, brown mountain,
Love, do you hear me sing?

By highway, love, and byway
The snows succeed the rose.
Over the high, brown mountain
The wind of winter blows.
Say, love, do you hear me,
Hear my sonnets ring?
Over the high, brown mountain
I sound the song of spring,
I throw the flowers of spring.
Do you hear the song of spring?
Hear you the songs of spring?
 
Robert Louis Stevenson

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Read more: spring poems, april poems, rose poems, song poems, winter poems, wind poems, love poems, heart poems, flower poems
   
 

   
   
 

  119.     

And flowers shall mourn

Scarce for a moment a gloomy grimace,
A sad looking face nor curt countenance,
All-knowing smirk, nor haughty arrogance,
I wonder whence flowers get such good grace!

A child is born with angel’s easy grace,
This goodly grace soon to a grimace turns
As this human bud grows to get grown face,
And is ne’er the same till childhood returns.

Like humans some plants are wildly grown weeds,
Yet, while the weeds forest fragrance far spread,
We, human weeds, spread forth foulest of deeds,
Forcing all neighbourhood to turn its head.

An if one distant day a child is born
With a grimace of frown, flowers shall mourn!
______________________________________________________
A simple sonnet with three quatrains, abba/cdcd/efef,
and a Volta, rhyming gg.
______________________________________________________
- Sonnets | 09.02.07 |
 
Aniruddha Pathak

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  120.     

The letter and spirit of law

My optimism lending a long rope,
It made me sing this rosy li’le quatrain:
If there be thing called letter of the law—
Impostor of old school nasty as naοve,
Man too has ‘nough spirit from which to draw
To keep a fair justice flowing alive.

But passive soon did turn my fragile hope,
And this sextet began to sing in vain:
Today there is naught but letters of law—
That we call jesters or impostors naοve,
They alone triumph singing their lone song;
Spirit seems bottled to mature and grow,
And justice, struggling to stay alive,
On deathbed is, and in prayers for long!
____________________________________________
The first two lines of the two stanzas
correspondingly rhyme abab. The next four
cdcd, and the sextet rhymes efgefg— a
peculiar sonnet scheme.
____________________________________________
- Sonnets | 02.08.07 |
 
Aniruddha Pathak

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