50 Sonnets
More poetry written by
P.J. Lowry
Copyright 2013 P.J. Lowry
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Dearest reader,
I write this letter to you today (as well as this book) as a humble enthusiast of the mighty sonnet.
A ‘sonnet’ is a structure of poetry that originated in Italy. The term sonnet actually derives from the Italian word sonetto, which means ‘little song’ or ‘little sound’. A Sicilian poet named Giacomo da Lentini is endorsed by many as its inventor. Sonnets are commonly 14 lines long and carry a distinct model of rhymes that varies from one culture to another.
Despite this endorsement the man who is more commonly known for writings sonnets, 154 of them as a matter of fact in his own unique way, was William Shakespeare. It was Shakespeare’s brilliance that introduced yours truly to the magic that is the sonnet, and it is Willy’s distinct pattern (abab, cdcd, efef, gg) that I actually prefer to employ when penning my very own sonnets.
While I have concocted many different forms of poetry over the last twenty plus years I’ve been writing, for some reason I always come back to the sonnet. People and other poets tend to criticize sonnets for being so restrictive and having all those rules, but it’s completely unwarranted. It’s those very rules that create the challenge, a lyrical gauntlet that makes the sonnet the bad ass of poetry that it is. The truth is anyone can construct a ‘free flowing’ poem but not every writer can compose a sonnet.
In my previous book of poetry titled ‘Recurring Dream’, there are five sonnets. They are some of my best works and whenever I write a sonnet that is not only pretty good but somewhat coherent, I feel such an overwhelming sense of pride. For that reason alone I whole heartedly confess: I love writing sonnets. Within this petite book is a compilation of fifty brand new, never before seen sonnets. I started writing these sonnets in early October of 2012 and completed number fifty by March the very next year.
My affair with the sonnet will never end, but today I breathe new life into my favourite genre of poetry. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did composing them.
Sincerely,
P.J.
Silent is the night as I stare upon a blank page
marvelling what radiance may come by my pen
nervous my mind might be trapped within a cage
as silent poets are no longer the wise men.
Blocked from this world, sheltered from all life
I languish for daylight while pining for new hope
the struggle nags my brain like an unbearable wife
stressed to bring out something of immense scope.
It should not feel this bad, never this strained
the words should want to flow out like a river
rather than feeling this confined, this restrained
I fear not a word shall ever run off this quiver.
Art like life; difficult to bring forth into the light
but one must keep fighting and continue to write.
I arise from a deep and very comforting sleep
waking up to realize the day is dark and sad
times are so harsh, I just want to openly weep
over what she did, how things became so bad.
Many people insist that I do not place blame
on myself for what I didn’t perform or control
I was led astray, there’s not need to feel shame
in a betrayal I did not contribute nor have any role.
Where was I as this revolting game was going on?
Tending to my young, doing what men are supposed
to do when trying to be responsible, it didn’t dawn
on me that our love was fading, our hearts closed.
So much sorrow to my soul she has brought
my love will carry on, the relationship will not.
I open my eyes and awaken to greet the new day
hoping the morning will bring forth good memories
soon my delight and excitement starts to give way
as I begin to remember the past and her atrocities.
Pain came my way by her will and deliberate malice
her words cutting through my heart like a dull knife
the actions that ended our love, so cold and callous
never again would I endure such pain in all my life.
She was my love, the one whom I wished to share
all our times, in sickness and health, better or worse
I thought life without her was like being without air
but our marriage was about as finite as this verse.
There are days I look back and wonder what might be
but the thought of her now makes me want to flee.
Graceful is her spirit as well as her compassion
for her fellow men and women, those left without
her choices made are not what’s deemed good fashion
but to support those who are helpless and in doubt.
Their lives are lost, like their ability to function in society
her heart knows no limit, which is what I admire most
people are inspired by her, through her clear propriety
she cares for those who are lost, but never dared to boast.
The things she does, they are gifts from a gentle soul
as she loves everyone as if they were all her own child
raising them to become independent, reach for a goal
teaching them to remain calm, keep their tempers mild.
Saints like her are a rare breed, much like the animals
as they learn none of us are different, always to be equals.
Each day I look her way, my heart skips a beat
as my eyes are rapt by her beauty and her grace
I feel spoiled as my ocular nerves are given a treat
urges brew in my soul as I yearn to share her space.
Her flowing red hear shines as bright as the love
that fills my heart, like blood that beats life into me
she has the kind of life we all long to be a part of
as I long to create new branches in her family tree.
Yet the love I hold will never see the light of day
she deeply loves another, her life has never been better
I’m doomed to a lonely life, where skies are grey
none will know how I feel but those reading this letter.
While I long to be with her, to caress my ailing brow
I’d never wish her pain, just to have her with me now.
I venture out in search of a new lady to love
but each day seems like a never ending struggle
life is slapping me around without a gentle glove
I might as well give up; try to learn how to juggle.
The quest seems so hopeless when you’re alone
afraid that you’ll never again find someone special
it’s as if nature is refusing to even toss you a bone
forcing one to seek help from somebody more celestial.
Far from above grovelling, never was I so desperate
to seek help and courage to keep searching for that one
despite the fact that I look for a mate that is articulate
in a vast sea of people, a daunting task that isn’t fun.
One day I will find her, that one, extraordinary lady
I just wish that we could discover each other already.
Each day I see people who make it, who succeed
and I view them with jealous eyes, envious of them
when each day I work hard to live, struggle till I bleed
as by their standards, I barely grow my own stem.
I seep with bitter feelings, hating those who have more
riches and fame and the things that make them happy
residing in the penthouse, while I rot on the bottom floor
living a good life when others feel miserable and crappy.
Then I think about the things that make me content
bringing love and hope to my heart, and never do I hide
when I’m down and my vigour is scattered and spent
my energy returns with a big hug from a loving child.
When I’m with them, the anger and sorrow leaves
as our children are a gift, one not everyone receives.
It’s difficult to concentrate when she’s around
everyone else seems to vanish in her presence
I long to speak with her, break new ground
but I fear rejection, being labelled a menace.
I sincerely try not to stare but it’s just so hard
as it’s easy to be mesmerized by her beauty
it’s difficult to imagine her loving me, a tub of lard
one day I shall accept reality, but I’m not ready.
I yearn to hold her, to feel her loving embrace
yet understand my feelings will never be real
everyone here is charmed by her wit and grace
I’m afraid to speak, to divulge how I really feel.
I’m better off moving on, to look for someone new
as I have no chance to see this dream come true.
Each day I wonder if things will ever get better
if I disappear tomorrow, would I ever be missed?
I yearn for someone to hold like a warm sweater
even praying to a God I don’t believe to exist.
Lately my bed feels almost an empty as my soul
nothing means anything unless it can be shared
life seems as trying as staring at a blank scroll
things seem so lost, as if no one will or ever cared.
I keep up the search but these days I feel so sad
wondering if I will find that new special someone
to share all the moments with, both good and bad
these days I feel so cheerless, I just want to run.
There’s someone out there, or so I’ve often been told
right now it’s hard to imagine out there in the cold.
Everyday I think about her, I get jealous
of the man she’s with, that lucky bastard
I can’t help it; she’s so amazing, so gorgeous
my dreams are unrealistic and quite absurd.
She’s out of my league, I can honestly admit
it’s hard not to stare and imagine what could be
we’ll always be friends, that’s all fate will permit
her loveliness is a drug and I’m a hooked junkie.
As they smile and laugh, all I can do is watch
from a distance, realizing how lost and sorry I am
for I have a better chance of finding a sasquatch
than finding a way into the heart of that madame.
Fate can be so unkind as the others I love move on
I should be happy for her; but I’m a love struck moron.
Things can be so discouraging when I see the news
people are dying and incapable of getting along
we call on our nations to bring an end to this abuse
but it never works as leaders are too headstrong.
Children grow up in the middle of an eastern battlefield
they’re afraid to go out for pizza or play at local parks
the only life they know is constricted and concealed
suffering from the politics of presidents and monarchs.
Habitats are destroyed and lives are literally torn apart
as pictures of their horror are beamed into our homes
by heartless networks who have no intention to thwart
the killers who are sending out the planes and drones.
I hope one day we can talk and see this violence cease
people can be bombed to pieces, but never into peace.
She’s out there somewhere, waiting for me
to stroll into her life and turn it upside down
I’ve never been the kind of guy to be choosy
I need someone, anyone to take away this frown.
When that day arrives, it will be hard to conceal
as the celebration will be heard around the world
as things will get better, it will all feel so surreal
one of those things that will leave your toes curled.
I hope that day comes sooner rather than later
as I sit here alone, composing these lame poems
I would always prefer to be a lover than a hater
a chance to add to my family tree some new stems.
We assume the risks, but there’s never a guarantee
that one day we’ll actually find that special sweetie.
Words mean little when looking for new love
attraction isn’t essential either, but matters still
while many things factor when looking a sort of
person that will excite you and give you a chill.
It doesn’t matter how hard you try, things happen
only when one is able to let go and stop trying
does the time come when love lets out its beckon
calling you better days that are anything but boring.
Try to hard and you will come across as desperate
which causes people to cringe away from the clingy
thus making you about as desirable as a casket
it’s a tough game that leaves you bruised and bloody.
While it may seem like things will never go your way
enjoy your appetizer, life will in time serve a fine entrée.
Never in my life had I seen such horror
unfold before my very eyes on the screen
that one person barged in like a wild ogre
spraying bullets like a well trained marine.
This was no professional, merely a young boy
unable to control his mind and trigger finger
hell bent on a wicked path to seek and destroy
waging an attack on our lives and very culture.
We all point our fingers, eager to lay blame
for shootings going on in theatres and schools
while the media showers the shooter in fame
and congress is unwilling to change the rules.
People need to wise up and finally get a clue
gun control is possible, but there is much to do.
Everyday it’s so hard to rise from my bed
I’m not ready to get up and face the world
for I’m afraid of the failures that lie ahead
I prefer to stay in bed with my legs curled.
Our there are people I’d rather not face
I feel like my life has been a terrible shame
I’ve done little and am complete disgrace
it’s far too late to come back to win the game.
Some say I shouldn’t be so hard on myself
for I’ve lived long and managed to enlighten
others like a encouraging book on the shelf
waiting to strike with the authority of a titan.
When I do pass on and depart this world for good
one hopes these works will be forever understood.
As each day passes and I continue to wonder
when our nations will make an effort to stop
the coarse atrocities of war, the barbaric plunder
of land, resources and working people of their crop.
/> The people march the streets, rising up to shout
their absolute disgust of how things are being run.
Words fall on deaf ears, the people have no clout
as our leaders keep people at bay with gas and guns.
With each convention the people try to protest
being stopped by barricades and abusive guards
still hoping our views and issues will be addressed
we’re then tossed away like unwanted greeting cards.
One day they’ll hear us, our words will get through
leaders can’t ignore us forever, we will be attended to.
When times are difficult and I am feeling blue
all I have to do is think about you and I smile
as my heart again refills with a love that is true
my strength returns and I can go that extra mile.
There is nothing that is more sensual or tender
than to feel your hand caress my troubled brow
it sooths my ailing soul, returning from a bender
of being away from you, almost too much to allow.
The night is as gentle as your lips pressed to cheek
your kisses heal me like Aphrodite’s magical tears
I no longer despair returning from a day so bleak
in your arms I wish to remain for the rest of my years.
Just seeing you is enough to make my heart melt
my love for you is the deepest thing I’ve ever felt.
When days are dark and I want to hide
the hate melts away with a warm embrace
from the very small arms of a loving child
I feel like I’m away, almost in a new place.
Life at that moment doesn’t seem so hard