154 Days - 154 Sonnets

Just to challenge myself, I'm going to write 154 Shakespearean sonnets over the course of the next 5 or so months, and post each of them here, once a day. I'll be following the exact rules of Shakespearean sonnet structure: iambic pentameter, 14 lines, ababcdcdefef gg rhyme scheme. Yeah, I might mess up. Feel free to join/critique if you like.

I've completed one already, yesterday:

Sonnet #1

My lady, can't you see that you are trapped,
Within the covers of an old bound tome?
Within its closing walls you've been long wrapped,
And made this cage into your makeshift home.

Too long have you not seen the light of day,
Nor honest love that makes the heart beat on;
Just fleeting sights that cannot ever stay,
Sad imitations on a greater dawn.

I know that I could show the world to you,
And see what has been writ by beauty's pen
Upon your mind and form untouched and true,
And make it so you're never creased again.

You should not ever fear that you may tear,
For that and more with love can see repair.

Sonnet #2 will be up once it's done.

edited 25th Dec '10 7:56:45 PM by Five_X

The first sonnet is actually an extended pun, if you were wondering. Here's the second:

Sonnet #2

They say the seas in Greece are beautiful,
No other in the world can match their blue.
But there the waters are so plentiful,
While there can only be but one of you.

The grand Aegean may be ever vast,
Deserving of its ancient noble name,
And any mortal qualms it shall outlast,
Yet none can ever set its heart aflame.

You see, to just compare you to a sea,
Ignores the qualities that make you great.
Now nature is a wonder, I agree,
But I can't ever take it on a date.

So though its beauty is much like a rose,
To you it cannot ever juxtapose.


I don't think that one was as good as the first...

I like the both of them equally much. Keep on with it!

And a new one! This one's about writing these sonnets.


So here I am today right at the start;
No turning back from this set path for me.
At times I do inquire if this strict art
Befits those who desire to be free.

No rhyme nor reason can be found in this,
It's but a challenge, nothing far too grand.
So if some thing does ever fall amiss,
I'll not be stranded much too far from land.

But should some other souls join in this game?
I reckon not, for this is no mere chore.
Thus those who play cannot put me to blame,
They cannot start, and hope to then ignore.

I shan't wish woe on those who tread my path,
To those who fail the Bard will send His wrath.



That was pretty fun to write. Didn't take me too long either.

It's... some kind of nonsense poem. As I say, don't try to find meaning in it. It's just odd gibbering.

He that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God,
And he that dwelleth in the past is wrong.
But he that dwelleth at home is just odd.
So they should getteth a job or play Pong.

To-day is a Monday, as you should know,
Thou should not dwell on this minor fact
Like the glittering falling of the snow,
As it would show thou hast a lack of tact.

Do dwelleth in love but not in the past,
That may just be the moral of this verse.
Don't dwelleth on that to be first and last,
As it's too shallow to truly immerse.

Though some would try to find out the meaning,
Don't do that here, you'd find it demeaning.



I don't even know what I was trying to write. Ah well, just 150 more sonnets to go.

Abracadabra, a new Sonnet of the Day.


I'm down with this Elizabethan slang,
Those thees and thys and thous are really tight.
My buddy the 'Speare, he weren't in no gang,
But with his badass verbs he'd win that fight.

When I'm hangin' with my buds in the club
I blow them all away, thou knowest why:
I rock it Shakespeare style down at the pub,
Thou couldst not match my slick rhymes, so why try?

About a year ago I didn't know
How lame old plays could help me rock the mic,
But now I've got these speaking skills to show
That Shakespeare is the rapper y'all should like.
Now if thou dost not think the Bard was cool,
Then Hamlet must be makin' you a fool.


Yes, I just mixed Shakespearean sonnets with rap. Also, whew, I barely got that one done on time.

The Golden Rule of sonnets: If you're out of ideas, write something about love.


Would you mind all that much if I admit
That your allure has no match in this world?
For no one else could my love be so fit,
For you my heart's banners remain unfurled.

I'm blessed to lay asleep in bed at night,
Knowing, always, that I am loved by you,
Even when I lack your touch it's alright;
The mem'ry of your love is fresh as dew.

It's true that you're immortal in my mind,
But still each thought of you is as unique
As when your loveliness I once did find;
As when your peerless voice I surely heard.

Beyond all mortal matters that we know
Our equal love will no doubt soon forgo.


I'm going to have to do this until May... what have I got myself into?

This one was kind of inspired by a mix of Nineteen Eighty-Four and John Lennon's Imagine.


Wouldn't life be simple without feeling?
No emotions, no cares, no war.
To lose the woes with which we're all dealing?
Yes, it would be simple, and so much more.

No greed, no lust, no hate: no sin at all.
For once there would be jealousy no more.
And so no one alive would break your fall,
Your life would always be but one more chore.

You wouldn't have to make a choice, my friend,
For decisions would lie beyond your reach.
And eventually it would all end,
Like careless waves that crash upon a beach.

If a world like this is your desire,
Then you're just a fascist, or a liar.



I think that turned out pretty well.

The forum was down, so I couldn't post this one up yesterday:


I took a stroll on one cold winter's night,
No company but Nature's quiet sound:
The yawning wind, the last few birds in flight,
And the crunch of snow spread on the paved ground.

Above, the stars stretch like a darkened map,
A network of cosmic paths in the sky.
Dark, too, are shadows in each building's lap.
My eyes turn to them a moment, I sigh.

The wind, faster now, bites at my bare cheeks.
I check my watch, turn back, and head home.
This is how the weather will stay for weeks,
But I'll bear it for some moments to roam.

As I reach my home I hear the noise rise:
The city overtakes the wind's harsh sighs.


Next one up in a bit.

And here it is.



Why do you hate me now? I ask you this.
Yesterday we were friends, but now that's gone.
Tell me what went wrong, tell me what's amiss!
Please tell me why these battle lines are drawn.

I never meant to do you any wrong,
I'm sorry, but I don't know what I did.
I cannot let this drag on for too long,
Of this harsh regret I wish to be rid.

The friendship we had will soon rot and die,
Being choked out by your silence unknown.
I want to save this, I won't let it lie,
So let the conflict's source to me be shown.

In all of this I have blamed none but me,
That it might be you I never did see...



Yay, only 145 more to go...

Sometimes, I really do run out of ideas.


Words flow like silk onto the clean white sheet,
Though I use a pencil and not a pen.
My writing is chalked out, not very neat.
So here is this day's sonnet, number ten.

By now writing poems is not too hard,
The rhymes and meter come to me with ease.
Though some ideas I have to discard,
Or I have to jot down verses like these.

Now my pencil is getting rather dull,
And my eraser is worked to death,
So before I beat my desk with my skull,
I'll stop this line and let you take a breath.

If my writing's fading, worry no more,
For I have left one hundred forty-four.

\\

love your persistance

but oh please dont overuse the whole "imma writing this poem about writing this poem" schtick. leave that for emergencies.

good luck.

edited 3rd Jan '11 4:51:12 PM by Aenima

That kind of was an emergency.

It's pretty hard to come up with new ideas when you have to write a poem every day.

So yeah, this time I had an idea of what to write.


Naught is as grand as the cosmos above,
Swirling infinity for all to see;
Few other things receive such human love,
Teasing us always, always it shall be.

Untouched beauty, in stark contrast to us,
On our once fair planet, ever alone.
It is a mystery that we discuss,
The one last space to which we have not flown.

It's more immense that any we've yet seen,
Immense in its opportunity, too,:
Multitudes of lands where we've never been,
We'll go, someday, that I know we will do.

So when you look up to the moon or sun,
Remember that our journey's just begun.



I like stars n' stuff.

This one's a little odd.


In the wonderful world of candyland,
Everything's made of sugary sweets,
So no one lacks some candy in their hand,
And everyone is equal in their treats.

This world is beyond our selfish old greed,
No one wants any more than what they've got.
Everyone has the candy that they need,
And there's not just a little, there's a lot!

In our world some have far too much candy;
Do they really deserve to have all that?
We can make a candyland that's dandy,
If we take away candy from the fat.

You see, it's not all that hard a thing to do,
Making candy equal for me and you.



Yeah, I started out writing a weird surreal kinda poem, then it morphed into a Marxist allegory for kids.

Man, I admire you for your persistence :/

I mustn't run away I mustn't run away I mustn't run away- No! I'm gonna keep this up 'til May!


There's something strange outside my lonely town,
It's something no one's seen but still is there,
Way off the gravel road a few miles down
Or so they say, but also, to beware.

Now living in a swamp is not too bright,
We're far removed from any kind of help.
So if you travel here please bring a light;
The wizened trees do stifle any yelp.

"Why don't you go and hunt it down?" You ask.
So many others did just that before,
And none of them returned from that doomed task.
Should we really decide to send some more?

Consider this a warning to those who
Would dare the journey, just to die here too.



A spooky sonnet for the number 13.

Before me sits a feast befit a lord,
The longest table set for me to dine.
What wonders lie within my scrumpt'ous hoard.
It's not just foods: I have the finest wine.

The smells, it is unbearable to me;
To think that it's not yet within my mouth!
Oh, what should I start with? What shall it be?
The cooking from the North, or from the South?

Now, truly, it is all of godly taste,
The best my master chef could yet devise,
Such massive heapings not to eat in haste,
But first to be devoured by my eyes.

I think, looking down at the sav'ry bliss,
I won't be able to eat all of this.



I like food.

Damnit, I've run out of ideas! This is all I could think up. I have no clue what to do for the next one.


My fingers brush against the cool steel strings.
A dull nonsense sound, not music, clangs out.
From all open strings, no real music rings,
About as melodic as a drunk shout.

Gripping the guitar, I sit with a sigh.
It's time to start the routine of the day.
The body rests, comfortable, on my thigh.
In the morning darkness, it's time to play.

Rusty at first, my fingers find my skill,
I mess up, and I start back from the top.
I play a new song to spice up the drill,
Focused on it, I continue nonstop.

That song wasn't easy; the hardest yet,
But I'll master it someday, that is set.



I have ideas for sonnet #17 and sonnet #18, but as for #16, I'm stumped. Hopefully I'll think of something eventually.

edited 8th Jan '11 1:49:44 AM by Five_X

If only real philosophical debates were solved this way...


A literal, bloody, battle of wits:
Two grand thinkers of the highest degree.
Eastern or Western this contest permits,
Whoever they are, they do not agree.

Down in the arena, they sit and think
How to debate the topic with their foe,
When they are done they stand and take a drink.
Their thoughts ready, it's time to have a go.

Nietzsche opens the match with a right hook,
But Socrates blocks fast, stopping the blow.
Still on the offense, Nietzsche doesn't look,
As Socrates drops him with a low blow.

He's standing proud, but he keeps his guard up,
And then falls: there was hemlock in his cup.

edited 9th Jan '11 1:26:15 AM by Five_X

This poem goes out to everyone who's been trapped in an underwater theme park.


Don't go to an underwater theme park,
The first flaw is that it's submerged at all,
So if the lights went out, it would be dark,
And tonnes of water could crush through the wall.

You never know where you;d be when it floods,
In an elevator, or the lobby.
Not the right water to break out the suds,
Bathing in salt is not a good hobby.

And what kind of dangers would then arise?
Bad chicken sandwiches, drowning, and more,
Rescue a hamster, get salt in your eyes.
Overall you'd soon be feeling quite sore.

But also keep in mind the friends that you'd make!
You'd best help each other, for your own sake.

This one's sort of a take on Shakespeare's sonnet 18. I've been waiting 18 days to write this one out, to be honest.


Shall I contrast thee to a winter's night?
You couldn't ever be so cold and cruel,
And ever your face is beautifully bright,
Never ruled by the season's sickly cool;

Pale dominates the colour of the snow,
Yet always your skin is vividly flushed;
This coldest season never seems to go,
But my love for you could never be hushed;

Winter gives the summer its warm relief,
And so it, too, has its frosted allure;
No love is perfect, that's the true belief,
But even though no love is truly pure:

We must must accept imperfection in cold,
And still impure is the greatest of gold.

It's been a hard day's write.


If someone were to ask me what I love,
I'd say that they had guessed exactly right.
For that emotion reigns so far above,
The God of emotions, with its sheer might.

To say that I'm in love with love is true,
"All mankind love a lover," after all;
It's such a feeling, always new to you,
And it rises to heights, often to fall.

Only when love fails can there be a match
For glowing grace of such a feeling grand.
And when it descends, not without a scratch,
One's very knees get weak, one cannot stand.

Sadder than the fall of an empire vast,
Is when an honest love just does not last.

Nice to see you're still keeping up with this :D

I'm deaf in one ear, and I'm still going!