
dry pine branches wave praise to God for the soaking rain drops over cones absorbing the chill of life
My poems
dry pine branches wave praise to God for the soaking rain drops over cones absorbing the chill of life
For the last few years, I said I was going to write a sonnet, so I could check this item off my list. Yet, I kept putting if off, because it is not as easy as writing a 30 minute haiku.
Sonnets were invented in the 13th century in Italy. The word sonnet derives from the Italian word sonetto, which translated means “little song.” Michelangelo wrote them as well as the sculptures he created. Shakespeare popularized them in English during the turn into the 17th century. Plutarchian and Shakespearian are the two most popular forms of sonnets.
Sonnets have a musical quality to them with a pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables called feet. An iamb is an unstressed then a stressed syllable equaling one foot. Pentameter is five feet, so there are ten syllables for each of the fourteen lines. Sounds like dancing with a partner who has two left feet! But just as in dancing, practice makes if not perfect, then easier.
Words at the end of the lines have a rhyme scheme: abab cdcd efef gg – same letters rhyme. Lastly, the first twelve lines set up a story, and the last two bring it to a resolution. Shakespearean and Plutarchian sonnets are mostly alike, but do have different rhyme schemes and story approaches.
Iambic pentameter closely mimics human speech. I dug up this tidbit in my research, making a difference in being able to write one or not. I had stressed over words I chose fitting the pattern by looking them up in the dictionary. The light bulb went off when I realized all I had to do was read it aloud listening for the rhythm and anything sticking out needed correction. I also researched it being a perfect fit, and found out there can be a very small amount of variations to still qualify as a sonnet. I used one slant rhyme, and some variations in the iambic pentameter.
My steps:
I decided I could work on it forever, or get somewhat close and chose the latter route. Walt Whitman kept revising his self-published work Leaves of Grass from 1855 to the end of his days. I don’t want to be Walt Whitman. Without further ado –
Arrest Her land was robbed in virginal attire: A fossil bed in fashion lined hued sand, The coastal pines intoned the ocean choir, Majestic mountains stood by His own hand. The scissor cut directed forest fires, Her swatches shorn in blackened forest floor. Bound by the gods of Delilah’s hellfire, She fought against entrance into her soul. The smoke burning darkened the sky by day, Air slipped through cracks of doors into twilight. Her cloak and dress and her lands were repayed. Delilah’s deceits ravished His birthright. The heavens poured rain in His fierce backlash; He washed away the floor plan's lifeless ash.
Cheshire grin.
The chess master moves his pawns
with a precise tilt of his wrist.
Each piece performing the moves
Spoken into frequency-laden air.
Bar the resistors,
Bar the knights.
Mock plays
strengthens the standing
slaying their fear of death.
Yet –
Crying out to You,
“Checkmate the beast!”
that cycles minds
on cue.
You laugh
as an angel rolls up Your sleeve,
tight as a cammie wearing Marine,
preparing to smash his chessboard
into ashy dust.
In 2017, a 20 year dream was fulfilled. It started when I watched the movie The Horse Whisperer, partially set in Montana. I called it the Promised Land for 20 years. I wasn’t even sure it would ever happen. Don’t give up on the dreams that God has for you.
My cell camera does not do it justice. However, here are a couple of pictures I took on that trip I took by myself, not turning on the television once. Just me, God, and some very nice business people.
A poem I wrote about Montana
Vision
outspread cloud arms
wrap the blue sky highway
above my windshield
Jesus’ smile beckons forward
the longing mountain fulfilled
exiled writer moves
swiftly as a dragonfly-
he evades the burner
soldiers hunt for his banned words
blind to the awakened poems