Sonnet Poems
London, 1802
by William Wordsworth
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour;
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
......
When In Disgrace With Fortune And Men's Eyes (Sonnet 29)
by William Shakespeare
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee--and then my state,
......
Sonnet 138: When My Love Swears That She Is Made Of Truth
by William Shakespeare
When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
......
Go, Lovely Rose!
by Edmund Waller
Go, lovely rose!
Tell her that wastes her time and me
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men abide,
......
When You Are Old
by William Butler Yeats
WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
......
Lost : Sonnet
by Ghairo Daniels
Lost in echoes of darkened time
dampened, dithering, dazed
wet withered witches mime a dime
fearful, I’m mazed or crazed
Calling Divinity, voicebox shut
eyelids glued, nostrils stuffed
lips zipped with copper thread
eardrums worrisome waned
......
Passion and Roses
by Joe Cyr
( Shakespearean sonnet )
Pale rosebuds heighten youthful innocence,
while roses mauve fuel fancied ardor fire,
denying unversed youth wise abstinence,
whereas pink roses spark True Love’s desire.
Moss roses signify wild possessing,
and lust that cannot yield sweet Charity.
Such ardor, thus, is but backward blessing
......
On a Dream, Cinco de Mayo
by Joe Cyr
(Italian sonnet)
The sun arched high and hot in tropic reach,
missing the narrow alley in shadowed brown.
Weary flats, replete with drab and run-down,
present their dingy windows to the breach
while slouching gloomily atop rows of shops.
Below, broken-wheeled carts stand abuzz with flies.
By one constricted sidewalk, curbstones lie,
offering rotted fruit and leafy slops.
......
A Sonnet of The Eternal Beloved
by Ayatullah Nurjati
O Eternal, beyond the grasp of flesh and time
In silent nights, where stars softly weep
My soul wanders, yearning to taste the divine in time
I search for You in depths still and deep
What am I but dust, mere clay and bone
O Beloved, pure as the morning’s breath
While You are the Unseen, seated on Your throne
Draw me near, release me from death
......
Breaking News (sonnet)
by Kirsten Moreton
Note: I have not even read over this yet, I wrote it quickly and just wanted to share. For context, Flamingo land nearly got planning permission to build a resort on Loch Lomond in Scotland. Loch Lomond is a huge part of Scotland's culture and we are a country proud of our scenery and natural environment and this caused outrage. The Poem is about this!
‘What kind of a place is a loch for flamingos?
Pink exotic birds in Stirling, no one would believe such a thing.’
No grannie, these are made of steel and faux.
They don't have a heart just mechanical parts not even a feather or a wing.
......
