Love Sonnets!
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Lauren Hynde
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Riddle: "How is Lauren like a pumpkin?"
We're both edible?
Maybe something to do with pie?
I don't know, I give up... you tell me!
We're both edible?
Maybe something to do with pie?
I don't know, I give up... you tell me!
JUDO
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Question: How is Lauren like a pumpkin?
Oh, I thought of several answers..
Answer: She has curves in all the right places.
Answer: She always has a smile on her face after she gets "carved."
Answer: She's planted in the summer, but harvests in the fall.
Answer: When you light her fire, she just glows.
Answer: Her best friends are either witches or pussies.
Answer: She has a big brain and definitely knows Jack (O'Lantern).
But my favorite answer was this:
Answer: Curvy on the outside, but always moist and gooey on the inside. Mmmmm...
- Judo
Oh, I thought of several answers..
Answer: She has curves in all the right places.
Answer: She always has a smile on her face after she gets "carved."
Answer: She's planted in the summer, but harvests in the fall.
Answer: When you light her fire, she just glows.
Answer: Her best friends are either witches or pussies.
Answer: She has a big brain and definitely knows Jack (O'Lantern).
But my favorite answer was this:
Answer: Curvy on the outside, but always moist and gooey on the inside. Mmmmm...
- Judo
Last edited:
Lauren Hynde
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I knew there was a good reason for me to like you so much! You know me too well 
So tell me... How do you like them pumpkins?
So tell me... How do you like them pumpkins?
JUDO
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Lauren.Hynde said:I knew there was a good reason for me to like you so much! You know me too well
So tell me... How do you like them pumpkins?
I love pumpkins - pumpkin pudding, pumpkin cake, pumpkin pie - ooo, pumpkin pie with pecans and whipped cream. I could just die.
A little whipped cream on your pumpkins would taste just as good. (hee hee). And "How do you like them pumpkins?" was a nice imitation of Matt Damon.
- Judo
Cordelia
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Darn. I wish I'd've known about this thread before. I have posted 3 sonnets and would've loved feedback.
Here's the third one posted yesterday:
A Simile for Your Kiss
The full moon took its time, and then my breath
Away as I saw clouds reveal its light;
Then gave me pause as when our lips first met.
I gasped in recognition -- pure delight.
Remembering your kiss, your touch -- that smile
Stopped my anguish at a moment’s crest
As liquid silver was my truth. And while
I memorize your touch upon my breast.
And, stopping me with white, the water mist
Reflects the singing moon as tarnished fire.
Just where my breath had paused before your kiss –
That same soul-filling memory of desire.
Mixing milk then bronze into the vial
The moon is metaphor still in your smile.
**************************
I am (as you may have gathered from the name) a true-blue Shakespeare lover, but I am considering trying the other sonnet forms.
As an accountant and mathematician, I have discovered poetic forms to be more creative for me than free-form poetry. My theory is that the strict rules and forms keep that left side of my brain occupied while the right side is free to create. What are your thoughts on this?
~Cordelia
Here's the third one posted yesterday:
A Simile for Your Kiss
The full moon took its time, and then my breath
Away as I saw clouds reveal its light;
Then gave me pause as when our lips first met.
I gasped in recognition -- pure delight.
Remembering your kiss, your touch -- that smile
Stopped my anguish at a moment’s crest
As liquid silver was my truth. And while
I memorize your touch upon my breast.
And, stopping me with white, the water mist
Reflects the singing moon as tarnished fire.
Just where my breath had paused before your kiss –
That same soul-filling memory of desire.
Mixing milk then bronze into the vial
The moon is metaphor still in your smile.
**************************
I am (as you may have gathered from the name) a true-blue Shakespeare lover, but I am considering trying the other sonnet forms.
As an accountant and mathematician, I have discovered poetic forms to be more creative for me than free-form poetry. My theory is that the strict rules and forms keep that left side of my brain occupied while the right side is free to create. What are your thoughts on this?
~Cordelia
Angeline
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I Love this Sonnet Cordelia
(as you know, lol); it is just delicious. I also love your Abstract sonnet, which is maybe not so direct a love sonnet, but so beautiful and visual I wanted to share it here.
Abstract
by Cordelia ©
Impassioned portrait sketched in words of lust,
Enticing me to reconsider all.
It traces doubt with grey upon my trust
And intimations hide behind the scrawl.
Relinquish every preconceived intent,
And paint my face with violet crystal tears.
I cannot take them back, so I relent,
And let the brushstrokes cover all my fears.
The sharpened edges blur with every hue -
Impressionist emotions, tinged with red.
I dip my fingers lightly into blue
And dare to replicate those things unsaid.
Kandinsky never could imagine these
Colors of my heart’s geometries.
(as you know, lol); it is just delicious. I also love your Abstract sonnet, which is maybe not so direct a love sonnet, but so beautiful and visual I wanted to share it here.
Abstract
by Cordelia ©
Impassioned portrait sketched in words of lust,
Enticing me to reconsider all.
It traces doubt with grey upon my trust
And intimations hide behind the scrawl.
Relinquish every preconceived intent,
And paint my face with violet crystal tears.
I cannot take them back, so I relent,
And let the brushstrokes cover all my fears.
The sharpened edges blur with every hue -
Impressionist emotions, tinged with red.
I dip my fingers lightly into blue
And dare to replicate those things unsaid.
Kandinsky never could imagine these
Colors of my heart’s geometries.
JUDO
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Cordelia said:
C -
Beautiful words and imagery.
A couple of questions. Did you want this to be a English (iambic pentameter, 14 line, 3 quatrains and a couple) or Classic (12 syllable and more, non-iambic, 14 line, 2 quatrains, 2 tercets)? I couldn't tell by the indentation or lack thereof.
Let me know and I'll get to your soon.
- Judo
Cordelia
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JUDO said:
C -
Beautiful words and imagery.
A couple of questions. Did you want this to be a English (iambic pentameter, 14 line, 3 quatrains and a couple) or Classic (12 syllable and more, non-iambic, 14 line, 2 quatrains, 2 tercets)? I couldn't tell by the indentation or lack thereof.
Let me know and I'll get to your soon.
- Judo
Thank you, Judo.
This is a Shakespearean (English) sonnet. I split the lines and (non) indented as the poem required, not the form.
And, Angeline. THANK YOU! A good opinion from you makes my head spin. Especially as I am a relative novice to this and am still shy about posting.
~Cordelia
Lauren Hynde
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Hello Cord! 
I was wondering when were you going to show up in this thread! I believe I told you once how much I adored your sonnets and I stand by it. Lovely imagery, and those final six lines are superb.
And, stopping me with white, the water mist
Reflects the singing moon as tarnished fire.
Just where my breath had paused before your kiss –
That same soul-filling memory of desire.
Mixing milk then bronze into the vial
The moon is metaphor still in your smile.
I'm sure Judo, our local sonnet queen, will do you justice.
I was wondering when were you going to show up in this thread! I believe I told you once how much I adored your sonnets and I stand by it. Lovely imagery, and those final six lines are superb.
And, stopping me with white, the water mist
Reflects the singing moon as tarnished fire.
Just where my breath had paused before your kiss –
That same soul-filling memory of desire.
Mixing milk then bronze into the vial
The moon is metaphor still in your smile.
I'm sure Judo, our local sonnet queen, will do you justice.
Lauren Hynde
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mmm, pie!JUDO said:
I love pumpkins - pumpkin pudding, pumpkin cake, pumpkin pie - ooo, pumpkin pie with pecans and whipped cream. I could just die.
A little whipped cream on your pumpkins would taste just as good. (hee hee). And "How do you like them pumpkins?" was a nice imitation of Matt Damon.
- Judo
JUDO
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Cordelia said:
Okay, C. Here we go -
Not that we have to, but for me, I'm going to divide this into three quatrains and a couplet.
A Simile for Your Kiss
The full moon took its time, and then my breath
Away as I saw clouds reveal its light;
Then gave me pause as when our lips first met.
I gasped in recognition -- pure delight.
Remembering your kiss, your touch -- that smile
Stopped my anguish at a moment’s crest
As liquid silver was my truth. And while
I memorize your touch upon my breast.
And, stopping me with white, the water mist
Reflects the singing moon as tarnished fire.
Just where my breath had paused before your kiss –
That same soul-filling memory of desire.
Mixing milk then bronze into the vial
The moon is metaphor still in your smile.
-------
You've done a very good job, so I will be really picky with your iambic sense, etc. Sorry, if you feel this is too extreme, but it's another pair of eyes, so...
First quatrain
1st line: The first three words set up the meter of the line, getting the listener's ears set for what is to come. I think that "full" works as a potential accented meter, but "moon" is really the important word to begin with and should be accented. I would re-work the beginning to allow the first accent to be on moon, rather than full.
Also, "breath" and "met" do not really rhyme, so let's change one of them.
Here's my thinking:
Charmed moon arose and froze my sorrow's debt
(Sorry, "arose" is not in much common use, and I can see that you are trying not to use such words. But I used this phrase as a memory of the first sight of her lover and its affect upon her.)
Charmed moon arose and froze my sorrow's debt
Away as clouds revealed its milky light.
This gave me pause as when our lips first met.
I swooned with recognition -- pure delight.
The "milky" added for later supporting a new fist line of couplet, and for the description of the clouds effect on moonlight.
Or, something like that.
Second Quatrain
2nd line: I read this line as having only nine syllables (unless you're using the very old English "stop-PED." I don't think you are.) But easily fixed. Using "which" rather than "that" to help complete the personification implied for "lips" from the 1st line.
Which stopped my anguish at dark moment's crest
I also believe we need to look for words like "the" and "a" to replace them with more descriptive words whenever possible. Make the most of the little room we've got in that way. Hence, the "dark" replacing "a" in line two.
Third Quatrain
Too many "Ands." I believe sonnet writers need to be wary of our favorite devices for getting the meter correct. Beginning a sentence with "And" is certainly one to use sparingly. Here, you've started the third Quatrain with "And" as well as the previous sentence. It will not read well out loud. Let's alter one of them.
Also, content here -- is "stopping me with white" referring to the light of the moon reflected or the color of the speaker's face, or both? Let's assume both and look for a clearer phrase (losing "And" in the process).
Suggest:
With paling glow I stopped as water's mist
Reflects bright singing moon as tarnished fire.
4th line: Seems to be 11 syllables here.
That same soul-filling memory of desire.
Can be altered several ways. Contraction of words is a common method.
That same soul-filling mem'ry of desire.
But also, lose the "ing."
That same soul-filled memory of desire.
or
That same deep soulful memory's desire. (my fav)
Couplet:
Mixing milk then bronze into the vial
The moon is metaphor still in your smile.
1st line: There are nine syllables in this line, plus I'm not seeing a setup for the vial and/or bronze in the body of the sonnet. I believe you are going for an apothecary reference as though some magic has occured with the moon and love's bite, but it's difficult to wedge into the rest.
Perhaps with a clarifying phrase, it might work better.
Bright milk of mercury can rest a while
Since moon as metaphor is in your smile.
Mercurial milk referring to your references to the moon's reflection in quatrain 1, line 2 ("milky") and quatrain 2, line 3 ("liquid silver"). The "rest" needed as we end the sonnet to ponder it's meaning.
Much can be done with the couplet as there are dozens of words to rhyme with "smile."
See? Very picky, but look at all of the changes infused below:
---
A Simile for your Kiss
Charmed moon arose and froze my sorrow's debt
Away as clouds revealed its milky light.
This gave me pause as when our lips first met.
I swooned with recognition -- pure delight.
Remembering your kiss, your touch -- that smile
Which stopped my anguish at dark moment's crest
As liquid silver was my truth. And while
I memorize your touch upon my breast.
With paling glow I stopped as water's mist
Reflects bright singing moon as tarnished fire.
Just where my breath had paused before your kiss –
That same deep soulful memory's desire.
Bright milk of mercury can rest a while
Since moon as metaphor is in your smile.
---
My thoughts.
- Judo
Cordelia
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JUDO said:
---
My thoughts.
- Judo
Judo!!
A million thanks!
No, I didn't feel it was too extreme. In fact, it is exactly what I was looking for. You are an absolute treasure.
I have incorporated your suggestions from this sonnet into my next sonnet. This is better than any college course in critique.
I can't thank you enough!
Lauren -- yeah, I have been lurking long enough. It was time I came out of my shell and contributed.
~Cordelia
dragonhearted
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ahem
bump
bump
The tyranny of syllables, or not, that is the question.
I've only just seen this thread; and anyway, as we lunge into winter, why not remember Srping
I agree in general erms with what Judo said about Yoda squeals from the rack of rhyme and metre schemes, but think Angeline's original disposition of hands was better, as it suggested the back and forth, as it were, of phone sex.
Also, the reading of sonnets doesn't have a metronomic rigidity, and Big Bill himself saw the percentage in fumbling his syllables, gaining a sense of the movement of though itself and the soft imperfections of human speech which retaining the dignity bestowed by the overarching architecture of the iamb, god bless its little feet.
The rhythmic efect you get when you read the line
That all his heart gives my hand to perceive
with the emphasis on both his and heart and then both on my and hand gives again that mirror effect that suits the distressingly carnal and pleasureseeking preoccupation of the poem.
Same with through me and my lover.
Should I go on or have I said enough?
as Bill said elsewhere.
Enough, no more - I have to get some groceries from the store
(And, Angeline, if Bill is moaning in his grave, well - moans have many causes.)
errrrrrrrr .......anyway ..................
here's my attempt to practise what I preach:
Let me not to the mirage of true love
Admit impediment; let's not get stuck
In analytic cul de sacs. We fuck
Because we must, and rear above
The compulsion of our sticky animal stuff
An artifice of civilised ballet moves.
And why not? Life's not life when we accept
Our meagre limits are meat and bone. We end
Up ghosts of biology. Why not pretend
The Romance of the Rose is more than dreck?
Who would prefer an autopsy to a song?
And anyway, who’s going to prove us wrong?
I've only just seen this thread; and anyway, as we lunge into winter, why not remember Srping
I agree in general erms with what Judo said about Yoda squeals from the rack of rhyme and metre schemes, but think Angeline's original disposition of hands was better, as it suggested the back and forth, as it were, of phone sex.
Also, the reading of sonnets doesn't have a metronomic rigidity, and Big Bill himself saw the percentage in fumbling his syllables, gaining a sense of the movement of though itself and the soft imperfections of human speech which retaining the dignity bestowed by the overarching architecture of the iamb, god bless its little feet.
The rhythmic efect you get when you read the line
That all his heart gives my hand to perceive
with the emphasis on both his and heart and then both on my and hand gives again that mirror effect that suits the distressingly carnal and pleasureseeking preoccupation of the poem.
Same with through me and my lover.
Should I go on or have I said enough?
as Bill said elsewhere.
Enough, no more - I have to get some groceries from the store
(And, Angeline, if Bill is moaning in his grave, well - moans have many causes.)
errrrrrrrr .......anyway ..................
here's my attempt to practise what I preach:
Let me not to the mirage of true love
Admit impediment; let's not get stuck
In analytic cul de sacs. We fuck
Because we must, and rear above
The compulsion of our sticky animal stuff
An artifice of civilised ballet moves.
And why not? Life's not life when we accept
Our meagre limits are meat and bone. We end
Up ghosts of biology. Why not pretend
The Romance of the Rose is more than dreck?
Who would prefer an autopsy to a song?
And anyway, who’s going to prove us wrong?
re sense of the movement of though itself . and ... human speech which retaining....
Oh bugger me, oh shit - well what to do?
The loftiest bullshit goes so oft askew . . .
the movement of though itself,
unsurprisingly should be
the movement of THOUGHT itself
and
human speech which retaining
should be WHILE retaining
Oh bugger me, oh shit - well what to do?
The loftiest bullshit goes so oft askew . . .
the movement of though itself,
unsurprisingly should be
the movement of THOUGHT itself
and
human speech which retaining
should be WHILE retaining
Angeline
Poet Chick
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Floater
You are a poetry powerhouse (especially when you agree with me lol).
I really enjoy reading your contributions to this board.
I have to go out too. My goal for the day is to acquire pumpkin pie (yes JUDO, Lauren, I said "pie") ice cream. I believe in having not too lofty goals.
You are a poetry powerhouse (especially when you agree with me lol).
I really enjoy reading your contributions to this board.
I have to go out too. My goal for the day is to acquire pumpkin pie (yes JUDO, Lauren, I said "pie") ice cream. I believe in having not too lofty goals.
Lauren Hynde
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Pie?
Mmmm, that's such a happy thought, it even asks for a new sonnet, regardless of being Spring or not. It's Spring in South America and Oceania, that's good enough for me!
Mmmm, that's such a happy thought, it even asks for a new sonnet, regardless of being Spring or not. It's Spring in South America and Oceania, that's good enough for me!
Lauren Hynde
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a dedication I'm too shy to post in the right place...
A Silent Whisper, One Night
Intractable spell, that voice's opiate sigh,
With sounds of gold in nights of doubts umpteen;
By silver sparks, her say reveals a Queen,
She dances naked, lustful—laughs so sly—
A Tigress, tenders me a gleaming thigh,
Intoxicate on Cool, her Beaut pristine,
Bestows her sex and—Oh marvellous scene!—
We spasm together, twin souls soaring high—
But never have I seen her—not a glance!—
Her voice alone commands my heart like this,
I don't desire her flesh, or mere romance—
She's just a voice-in-heat, the quiet ballerina—
And for that voice-turned-real, that Goddess Athena,
I dream to melt away, drown in shivering bliss—
A Silent Whisper, One Night
Intractable spell, that voice's opiate sigh,
With sounds of gold in nights of doubts umpteen;
By silver sparks, her say reveals a Queen,
She dances naked, lustful—laughs so sly—
A Tigress, tenders me a gleaming thigh,
Intoxicate on Cool, her Beaut pristine,
Bestows her sex and—Oh marvellous scene!—
We spasm together, twin souls soaring high—
But never have I seen her—not a glance!—
Her voice alone commands my heart like this,
I don't desire her flesh, or mere romance—
She's just a voice-in-heat, the quiet ballerina—
And for that voice-turned-real, that Goddess Athena,
I dream to melt away, drown in shivering bliss—
Lauren Hynde
Hitched
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microwave oeuvren
Virgin
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And yet another sonnet has been added to the heap
I wrote this some time ago, but only recently started snooping around these threads. The poem was written at a time when my significant other (an avid flower gardener) was feeling bad about a careless remark. I couldn't decide whether or not I wanted to attempt a sonnet with the English or Italian rhyming scheme, so I opted for two stanzas, and used both schemes (the Italian sonnet was the harder to write). I've am relatively pleased with the result, but wouldn't mind hearing what Judo et. al. might suggest for improvements...
- - - - - - - - -
A garden lushly growing makes a bed of flowered soil;
Can such a lovely scene be ruined by a single weed?
Can a thistle all alone annihilate or spoil
Hyacinth and dahlia, lobelia--indeed!
The carefully laid out flowers all reveal a wondrous story
Of gardens planted lovingly and nurtured to fruition;
A lone unwanted weed that sprouts up near the morning glory
Surely cannot spoil an admirer’s intuition
That gardeners, through steady work, have wrought these works of wonder...
How can such beauty emanate from what was homely seed?
The brilliant colors, vibrant growth, cannot be taken under
And ruined by the coming of a single thistle weed!
Aye, groups of weeds can overturn a garden into shambles
But single weeds just now and then won’t ruin flowery brambles
And when in haste a spoken word is blabbered in a blurting
And then is misinterpreted, perhaps misunderstood
The innocently uttered words: regretfully they could
Pang the hearer’s heart and cause some unintended hurting
And, when the hurt is evident, it feels so disconcerting:
To think that words were offered up, intended for some good,
Instead backfired, causing pain, though speaker thought they would
Perhaps bring blushing smiles, as when both of them are flirting...
Then both of them sense anguish, filling with their own regret--
But do they fret thus needlessly? Their love is ever strong...
The sentence, like a single weed, does not their garden spoil
They focus on the ugly weed a moment, true, and yet
The weed is pulled, and still the lovely flowers grow among
The fragrances of kindness and the fertile, loving soil
I wrote this some time ago, but only recently started snooping around these threads. The poem was written at a time when my significant other (an avid flower gardener) was feeling bad about a careless remark. I couldn't decide whether or not I wanted to attempt a sonnet with the English or Italian rhyming scheme, so I opted for two stanzas, and used both schemes (the Italian sonnet was the harder to write). I've am relatively pleased with the result, but wouldn't mind hearing what Judo et. al. might suggest for improvements...
- - - - - - - - -
A garden lushly growing makes a bed of flowered soil;
Can such a lovely scene be ruined by a single weed?
Can a thistle all alone annihilate or spoil
Hyacinth and dahlia, lobelia--indeed!
The carefully laid out flowers all reveal a wondrous story
Of gardens planted lovingly and nurtured to fruition;
A lone unwanted weed that sprouts up near the morning glory
Surely cannot spoil an admirer’s intuition
That gardeners, through steady work, have wrought these works of wonder...
How can such beauty emanate from what was homely seed?
The brilliant colors, vibrant growth, cannot be taken under
And ruined by the coming of a single thistle weed!
Aye, groups of weeds can overturn a garden into shambles
But single weeds just now and then won’t ruin flowery brambles
And when in haste a spoken word is blabbered in a blurting
And then is misinterpreted, perhaps misunderstood
The innocently uttered words: regretfully they could
Pang the hearer’s heart and cause some unintended hurting
And, when the hurt is evident, it feels so disconcerting:
To think that words were offered up, intended for some good,
Instead backfired, causing pain, though speaker thought they would
Perhaps bring blushing smiles, as when both of them are flirting...
Then both of them sense anguish, filling with their own regret--
But do they fret thus needlessly? Their love is ever strong...
The sentence, like a single weed, does not their garden spoil
They focus on the ugly weed a moment, true, and yet
The weed is pulled, and still the lovely flowers grow among
The fragrances of kindness and the fertile, loving soil
damppanties
Tinkle, twinkle
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- May 7, 2002
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Spring has gone... and so has love
but here's a little try:
I regret your coming into my world
And filling it with iridescent dreams
You made life a magical, dancing twirl
But in retrospect a big farce it seems
Was it love - the feeling I had for you?
I'm still not sure after all this has passed
Although I realize that 'we' are through
I'm still clutching the dead hand of the past
Before the terrible ending could start
Before I could stumble and thence could fall
I saved myself from the breaking of heart
I convinced myself it's not love at all
But if those feelings didn't mean anything
Just why in hell did I need convincing.
This is the first thing I tried writing according to a 'form' and I have a feeling I've ruined my ideas in the process... but since I wrote it, I thought I'd post it anyway. Can it be salvaged?
but here's a little try:
I regret your coming into my world
And filling it with iridescent dreams
You made life a magical, dancing twirl
But in retrospect a big farce it seems
Was it love - the feeling I had for you?
I'm still not sure after all this has passed
Although I realize that 'we' are through
I'm still clutching the dead hand of the past
Before the terrible ending could start
Before I could stumble and thence could fall
I saved myself from the breaking of heart
I convinced myself it's not love at all
But if those feelings didn't mean anything
Just why in hell did I need convincing.
This is the first thing I tried writing according to a 'form' and I have a feeling I've ruined my ideas in the process... but since I wrote it, I thought I'd post it anyway. Can it be salvaged?
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