Sonnet Smackdown

[The Mutt]

And for extra kicks, write a hypersonnet with the rhyme scheme backwards.


s'nataS tennoS

Feeling heavy, broken, lost in time and
space as searing solar winds bite at his
face and buffet him like waves and leave him
reeling, plunging through the heat of solid air.

Falling to the earth-- an angel betrayed--
wings aflame with scorn, the smoke of exile
stings his weeping eyes, the loss of heaven
mauling new-born flesh to ragged tatters.

Calling voices chase him down-- derision
rings in shredded ears-- but he remembers
too well how they all ran as he stood fast.

Galling him; the sound as a coward choir
sings the praises of an arrogant Lord
who exalted them and then dashed their hopes,

Stealing their dreams of godhood. So strong, God's
base desire for worship, He birthed a
race without souls to praise Him, all the while
concealing His plan to give souls to apes.

Few stood with him, fewer give him his due,
Who stood before his God and dared ask why.

 

[Fflow]

Miss Oatlash

Thanks for joining the party!

 

[Miss Oatlash]

Thanks for joining the party!

I'm always up for a threesome...foursome...orgy...
Just ask Mutt.
:rose

 

[Fflow]

Satan's Sonnet

Damn, Mutt. Very nice! I love poems with happy endings!

PS: Is Oatlash as fun as she says she is? How does one learn first hand?

xoxo

fflow

 

[The Mutt]

Damn, Mutt. Very nice! I love poems with happy endings!

PS: Is Oatlash as fun as she says she is? How does one learn first hand?

xoxo

fflow

Oatlash the Huntress

Day turns to night and the Huntress is prowling,
Casting no shadow, she makes not a sound,
Save for a low, nearly sexual growling,
Deep in her throat as she glides 'cross the ground.

See how they cower, avoiding her glances,
The weak, little men so afraid of her bite,
They cringe as she searches, and taking no chances,
They crawl to the shadows and hide from her sight.

Yet one man among them shows no trace of fear,
Teasing and tempting, he welcomes the chase,
He steps from the darkness as Huntress draws near,
And smiles at the bloodlust he sees in her face.

They circle like dancers, Huntress and Prey,
She knows she will catch him, he prays that she may.

 

[Angeline]

A Jazz Sonnet

Tenor Sonnet

Plaintive tenor man, oh why must you be
so mean to me baby? Must your sound lilt,
whisper hollow and insistent as though
every star tumbled from the sky, spilt

in measures coaxed to pour out from a bell?
Your breath to my soul, harmony in blues,
and you a ghost that casts me in a spell
of pain and past and nothing left to lose.

Prez at the window, drinking in the bar,
or scraping heels along an avenue
stretching to timeless years, so near and far
away from me into the fog of you.

I ain't got nothin but the blues baby
bitter deep and sweet as muse baby.

 

[Fflow]

Tenor Sonnet

Damn, Angeline. You are so talented. Every time I read something of yours I'm simply floored. Thanks for sharing your artistry and talent with us, and for raising the bar so very high!

xoxo

fflow

 

[Eleanora Day]

The Night

The night curved stars upon us like a veil
folded over the jagged scars of day.
Too dark to see your tongue against my pale
flesh settled soft around you where we lay
within the breathless murmurs of the breeze
and curtains barely moving in the chill
hour where lovers touch and take their ease
to strain against the need of each one's will.
O fallen like the apples of my breasts
into your desire. Move me, take me
out of this vale of life, where pain arrests
my joy too often to forget and flee
into this petaled passion, garden soft,
beating with limbs like wings ascend aloft.

 

[Fflow]

A New Day

Thank you for joining the party, Eleanora! A lovely submission!

I think I'm going to have to get off my ass and write another. After all, as I have proven many times, both here and elsewhere, I am not afraid to embarrass myself publically!

xoxo

 

[trendyredhead]

Hypersex

Here is mine, thanks to Lauren's challenge last year...

Eyes, blue, half-closed, his lashes long and dark,
he naked came to me with outstretched hands.
My passion builds, a fire starts, demands
he touch me, taste me, fan the glowing spark.
On cotton sheets, our bodies slick with sweat,
we rub, we grind, exploring, licking, pleas
are whispered, offered, raise me on my knees.
I take him deep, his fathom’d thrusting met;
so hard he plunges, squeezing out the wet
to puddle on the mattress; in my cunt I seize
his cock so tight - hush quiet, don’t wake up
the neighbors, list’ning - softly stroking, let
me kiss you, taste you, breathe you, please don’t tease;
An alcoholic, greedy, drink your cup
of loving, swilling, swallow, leave my mark.
He, turning, feeds his nectar, honey gland
of sweetness, dripping from my lips, my hand.
The candlelight recedes, the room grows dark.
United flesh, thickspread with sweet syrup,
lies sated; now on sleep we must catch up.

 

[Fflow]

Condiments

I like the whole syrup/ketchup thing... Very Kinky!

Nice!

 

[JUDO]

Fflow, there is a wonderful writer at this forum--well not of late, but she shows up now and again by the name of JUDO who writes incredible sonnets. And she can spin them out in minutes and in flawless meter. I saw her do this once and produce a double-acrostic sonnet--acrostic on both the beginning and end letters of each line. Think of that!

Angie, you are such a doll! Love you.

- Judo

 

[Angeline]

Angie, you are such a doll! Love you.

- Judo

JUDO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Every word I said is true. You're the Empress of the Epigram.

And today I heard from you *and* karmadog. He said:

Dear God, Ange. You have gotten so fucking good! I read the poems that you linked. I particularly liked 'Boardwalk Life'. I think it's brilliant. Although I didn't know you liked disco so much.

sigh. how characteristic.

 

[Liar]

It's not easy to write anything against a strict form, especially one with other conditions added, which were likely "given" conditions in the past. I do like form very much. It raises me, I feel, to new heights sometimes. But my main allegiance is to creativity and the exact thing I want to express.

Guess we're different then, in our approah to poetry and somewhat to form. I find the exploration of my eloquence abilities and creation process to be the most important thing, not the preciseness of what I wish to say - that will be open for intepretation anyway, however exact I think I make my end product. Therefore, form or a preset disctinct direction acts like a catalyst to the creativity. I've only written a handful of sonnet-esque poems, but I found the struggling for words to fit the form to be a challenge that made me push the boundaries of how I could express myself.



Anyway, here is one of them:

Hyper Music

Again a lover's breath to end all fright,
aligning fates igniting virgin stars.
Tonight a comet falls and fades on Mars
but you remain in orbit burning white.
Again to stellar song and cosmic praise.
I kiss your lips and soothe your sparkling skin
to tranquil turmoil blazing deep within,
and watch the Libra glitter in your face.
To Pleiad smiles and Luna blush ablaze
you whisper "Stars are burning, planets spin,
but can they hear the music in a heart?"
"We sing," I say "by adding days to days,
anew each morning, spinning twin to twin,
and reinvented love tells kins apart."
You pull me closer, watching Venus' flight,
a tiny spark of magic matching ours,
and run your fingers tracing ancient scars.
"You are my song," you sigh into the night.
Again a breath, a lover's arms, a start,
as thoughts of cosmic cadence soon depart.

 

[foehn]

Guess we're different then, in our approach to poetry and somewhat to form. I find the exploration of my eloquence abilities and creation process to be the most important thing, not the preciseness of what I wish to say - that will be open for intepretation anyway, however exact I think I make my end product. Therefore, form or a preset disctinct direction acts like a catalyst to the creativity...

Well everyone is different, but I'd suspect that we have more similarities in our views than differences. More words -- more exposition-- would likely reveal some of that. The neat thing about having a forum in which to banter about such things is that "views" -- such as they are -- get clarified and honed, and one becomes more adept at expressing them. Oh well all right, that is a faint hope I have, anyhow! *laugh* -- I think that I meant in my post to suggest something more like what you said in your last sentence, here.

Hyper Music is a very lovely poem. Thanks for sharing it.


***

Bad Sonnet for a Bad Girl


¡Ay, amor mio! You are my love, you know –
wandering in and out of my strange days
as though you were a butterfly, or snow,
flitting, fluttering, going backwards or sideways…
Is that why I love you? Unpredictable
as weather in spring, you dapple my short stint
upon the Earth with undeniable
shadow and light. Now I catch a glint
of love, and then the low, dismissive cloud
of indifference leaves a footprint on my heart,
a shadow on my landscape. I speak aloud
into the wind, sometimes, with valiant art,
one word: your name, to the vapid, vacant air,
as though it could hear me, or find you anywhere.

 

[champagne1982]

Bad Sonnet for a Bad Girl


¡Ay, amor mio! You are my love, you know –
wandering in and out of my strange days
as though you were a butterfly, or snow,
flitting, fluttering, going backwards or sideways…
Is that why I love you? Unpredictable
as weather in spring, you dapple my short stint
upon the Earth with undeniable
shadow and light. Now I catch a glint
of love, and then the low, dismissive cloud
of indifference leaves a footprint on my heart,
a shadow on my landscape. I speak aloud
into the wind, sometimes, with valiant art,
one word: your name, to the vapid, vacant air,
as though it could hear me, or find you anywhere.

Clever poet! I didn't even realize the rhyme until the second read, when I was looking for it. This is poetry. Thankyou.

 

[BooMerengue]

Well everyone is different, but I'd suspect that we have more similarities in our views than differences. More words -- more exposition-- would likely reveal some of that. The neat thing about having a forum in which to banter about such things is that "views" -- such as they are -- get clarified and honed, and one becomes more adept at expressing them. Oh well all right, that is a faint hope I have, anyhow! *laugh* -- I think that I meant in my post to suggest something more like what you said in your last sentence, here.

Hyper Music is a very lovely poem. Thanks for sharing it.


***

Bad Sonnet for a Bad Girl


¡Ay, amor mio! You are my love, you know –
wandering in and out of my strange days
as though you were a butterfly, or snow,
flitting, fluttering, going backwards or sideways…
Is that why I love you? Unpredictable
as weather in spring, you dapple my short stint
upon the Earth with undeniable
shadow and light. Now I catch a glint
of love, and then the low, dismissive cloud
of indifference leaves a footprint on my heart,
a shadow on my landscape. I speak aloud
into the wind, sometimes, with valiant art,
one word: your name, to the vapid, vacant air,
as though it could hear me, or find you anywhere.

Foehn? The Hyper Sonnets are Lauren's doing. It was a wicked challenge. I can't find the link, but maybe she'll see this and post it so you can read some awesome poems!

 

[foehn]

Clever poet! I didn't even realize the rhyme until the second read, when I was looking for it. This is poetry. Thankyou.

¡Dios mio!

My poor offering reads so much better next to your avatar...

*sigh*

***
Boo, I'll search for it. Hypersonnets are way cool...

 

[The Mutt]

¡Dios mio!

My poor offering reads so much better next to your avatar...

*sigh*

***
Boo, I'll search for it. Hypersonnets are way cool...

The Hypersonnet Challenge a few months back produced some stunning poems.

 

[The Mutt]

I love sonnets.

 

[Angeline]

I love sonnets.

Love your sig line Mutty. One of my favorite songs ever.

 

[Anschul]

Well, this wouldn't be a serious smackdown without one or two from me.
I wrote lots and lots forty years ago (took a college course in the Elizabethan form) but my first wife burned my books in a fit of rage. Then I wrote one for my darling AA, to read as part of our wedding vows, but I can't find that one anywhere. So I began again when I found Lit. Here's the first one I wrote for Lit:

One

This is a try to conquer something new.
I think I need to stretch my brain a bit.
I'll write one first, and then maybe a few
More if I can. I don't think I can quit
Making rhymes that others'd like to read;
Might even try themselves if they are bold.
Who knows where this new exercise might lead.
I want to make a mark before I'm old.
This guy who reads my stuff has made me think
Of what I might be able to produce,
To grow my mind, to take me to the brink
Of some new place. I can't declare a truce
On fighting time, of giving in to age.
This is a war I'm now willing to wage.

 

[Anschul]

Tenor Sonnet

Plaintive tenor man, oh why must you be
so mean to me baby? Must your sound lilt,
whisper hollow and insistent as though
every star tumbled from the sky, spilt

in measures coaxed to pour out from a bell?
Your breath to my soul, harmony in blues,
and you a ghost that casts me in a spell
of pain and past and nothing left to lose.

Prez at the window, drinking in the bar,
or scraping heels along an avenue
stretching to timeless years, so near and far
away from me into the fog of you.

I ain't got nothin but the blues baby
bitter deep and sweet as muse baby.

Ange, you know how much I love this one, and how it inspired me to write this for my son:

Bluesman

Sing me blues, my gentle music man.
Play me heartache, heal the painful soul,
The hurting heart with their sweet empathy.
The music cries loss, sadness takes a toll
On the musician. He feels acutely
Raw with the deep emotion of the song
He plays. A mournful rhythm, minor key,
Evoking distant memories. A long
Slow riff, slide guitar, sad refrain, he sings
Tragedy, wasted time, relationships
That, going nowhere, pull at his heartstrings,
Make him weep. Something deep within him rips
Music out to the surface. Hear his voice,
Transformative. We listeners rejoice.

 

[Anschul]

Blame UPBJ for these two:

Kansas

Amber waves of grain, fertile land gives back
The sustenance the rest take for granted.
America's heartland, Kansas keeps track
Of values lost in places where slanted
Minds obfuscate reality, for their
Own agenda. Out there where daily bread
Is at once a way of life and a prayer,
A hardscrabble existence isn't dread,
But rather the way things are, ought to be.
They work the land, they consume what they make,
And never want for everything they see;
They share with others, rather give than take.
No hurry there, no good to move too fast,
Hardworking folk, a culture built to last.


Mistress

Arms tied behind my head, you sit astride,
Fingers circle my nipples, fingernails
Seem sharpened, scrape the rosebuds, scratch my hide
Till tiny droplets appear. Make me wail
With rapture, beg for more, "Please, MORE," I scream,
And you just laugh, your eyes betray your vice.
"Before I'm done, you'll wish it was a dream,"
You sneer, "You thought getting fucked would be nice
And safe. You didn't know what you would get
When you walked in. You didn't know that pain
Could be so thrilling." I feel your cunt get wet
Against my belly, you scratch me again.
My breath grows short. I explode. Loins afire.
After, in your eyes, I see raw desire.

 

[Anschul]

And I'll only post one more of the old ones here. This one's my favorite of the last 30/30 challenge:

Conversations

These sunrise walks at water's edge will end
Much sooner than originally planned.
This vast, flat ocean has become my friend,
My confidant, as footprints in the sand
Trail behind, witness to thoughts that only
The water, the seagulls, and I can share.
That still, small voice that echoes the lonely
Child inside is safe here, while everywhere
Else it hides, obedient to a fear
Of exposure. But in this peaceful place
Where no one can get close enough to hear,
It shouts. The days are easier to face.
The man has found his precious daily walk.
There must be a place where the boy can talk.


If anyone's interested, see my sig line for the book of all the sonnets I've written for Lit so far.
I'll post more here, but only newly written.

Thanks for this challenge. I'm hooked--it's my form.