Sonnet Central Submissions
- Of the Homesick Traveler by Sara (age 17; New York; received
- The Rescue by Ana Somoano (Cerritos College Poetry Class,
California; received 9/1/99)
- Murphy by Trevor Smith (received 10/10/99)
- Death's Knife by Andrew William Soukup (age 13; received
- A Night to Remember by Caleb Swearingen (age 16; Oklahoma;
- Past Poet by James Joseph Smith (age 23; California;
- Flight by Sean (Indiana; received 12/10/99)
- Sonnet XXV (I. The Offering) by Tony Spicuglia (age 45;
California; received 12/27/99)
- When the Sky is Falling by Chrissy Stanek (age 15; Stoughton,
Wisconsin; received 1/31/00)
- Little Angle by Kimberlee Sorenson (age 17; Wisconsin;
- The Toenail of Victor Emmanuel II by Frank Stokes (age
69; Illinois; received 2/1/00)
- On Selfish Whim by Cynthia Shelton (age 31; Putney, Vermont;
- Christmas, 2000 by Mark Steven Scheffer (received 2/13/00)
- Leaving Your Mark by Sandy (age 15; received 2/13/00)
- The Game by Tim Smith (received 2/16/00)
- Sonnet IV by Megan Swaine (age 18; Baltimore, Ontario,
Canada; received 2/27/00)
- Imagine by Sarah Swirl (age 16; received 3/20/00)
- Oro Negro by Aaron Scheinberg (age 19; West Point, New
York; received 4/3/00)
- Why? by Johanna Schaefer (age 17; New York; received
- Undying Love by Lissa Snowdon (received 5/2/00)
- Regret by Stefanie (received 5/7/00)
- "Choirs silenced to hear you whisper words" by Shayda
(age 13; Ankara, Turkey; received 5/14/00)
- On the Inappropriate by Douglas Spangle (age 49; Portland,
Oregon; received 7/2/00)
- True Sight by Michael Sigmon (age 18; North Carolina;
- What I Know by Sarah (age 17; received 9/8/00)
- Dirty Dog by Tony Schofield (age 65; Leeds, UK; received
- The Brain by Elizabeth Hurst Stack (San Francisco, California;
- 34. February 3rd by Brian Arthur Salchert (age 59; received
- The Match. . . by James Joshua Sieber (age 18; Norman,
Oklahoma; received 1/30/01)
- In Praise of Safe Edges by Jacquelyn Shah (Houston, Texas;
- Insomnia by Kristen Jane Stone (age 18; Vian, Oklahoma;
- "Always they said it will be soon enough" by Shannon
Shade (age 17; Vian, Oklahoma; received 2/15/01)
- Love City by Guilherme Flosi Stocchero (age 17; Sao Paulo,
Brazil; received 3/17/01)
- She Doesnįt Know Who She Is by Daniel Lee Shatto (age
16; received 3/21/01)
- Mystique trip by Stonefish (age 21; received 4/3/01)
- Woe to a Lover by Kirandeep Singh (age 16; Canada; received
- Twin Wrecks by Robert Marshall Simmons (received 4/12/01)
- Just Philip Morris Talk by Guilherme Flosi Stocchero
(age 17; Sûo Paulo, Brazil; received 5/4/01)
- Adirondack by Tony Smith (age 41; Maryland; received
- San Francisco Bay Blues by Joe Smith (age 35; Los Angeles,
California; received 5/30/01)
- Bleak Likeness by Scott Stewart (received 7/7/01)
- September 11th by Karina Strateanu (age 15; Toronto,
Ontario, Canada; received 12/1/01)
- Darkness by Marya Shaharyar (received 12/1/01)
- NEWER SONNETS -
Of the Homesick Traveler
Here now stand I on dark and lonesome shore,
my only wish this wandering to leave,
and ah! how numerous the miles cleave
myself to home, return do I implore!
Am I a peaceful home to have no more?
And for my homeland far do I now grieve.
It gives me heart to dream and still believe
past seas and forests, mountains and the moor!
Oh what I'd give to leave this exile wide,
Lo! Chance to back return comes unforeseen,
Unto the land my heart owns e're pristine!
and homeward bound my ship goes with the tide,
now setting sail pray I as joy knows how,
and little though it seems it be enow.
Clouds, dampness, rain on covered ground,
Water streaming me by, desperate fighting.
I say, save the queen, save the queen, and tightening
My grip as not to drown, I'm going to pound
My wings in the dirt without making sound.
A work bee's life may be short and frightening,
But satisfaction replaces whining.
I must survive and flap my wings till found.
I hear voices coming, they are so near,
My screams go far, please undo this torrent.
Little feet are running my way. They're here!
A small hand reaches down, steals the moment.
The feeling of safety brings me to tears.
Homebound I fly, and into the forest.
Bowed under the weight of a wounded man
Carried from the wide jaws of death. His eyes
Hollow from the horror of a war-torn land,
His mind numb to the soldier's dying cries.
Red blood, stagnant mud, bodies crippled and maimed
Witness: man's inhumanity to man
Is it the politicians who should be blamed?
Remembered after an eighty-year span
He's now the hero of Gallipoli,
Who had to make the perilious journey,
Down exposed rocky gullies to safety
Brought the burden of endless casualties.
His name in the annals of history
A donkey awarded for bravery.
Over and again I find myself in
This world that does not make any sense.
But, I come to it again and again,
This world that strips me of ev'ry defense.
I sleep each night in my bed of shelter,
Wondering what the next day will bring me.
I dream and hope that my hate won't swelter,
I send my deep and lasting love to Thee.
Living brings only sorrow and hatred,
Death breeds peace and calm and eternal life.
Death clears the obstacles that I must tread,
But how can I escape life's ready knife?
When life breeds sorrow and sadness of death,
I will look for your ever gentle breath.
A Night to Remember
Darkness had filled the newlyweds hotel room.
The moonlight, like a knife, cut through the dark.
Alone, they had thought, were the bride and groom.
Their names I think were Patricia and Mark.
They had fallen asleep without a care.
Dreaming that night without the slightest fear.
What he had done, it was not even fair.
The breaking of the glass they could not hear.
He was standing there watching them sleeping.
What he had done to them should not have been.
Some can still hear it, the song he would sing,
In the hotel room where it happened again.
People who do believe they will not dare,
But those who do not are in for a scare.
Past poet, like a furnace your eyes burn
Bright like the Tiger's, your ink sears my soul,
As the black Raven on Athena churns,
White elephants talk of hills like they're moles.
The words that you have spoken unto me
Gives neither sight, nor touch, nor sleep nor death;
Instead, on fair lines blackened, cunning be
The bare untruth bestowed upon my breath.
Life has yet to embrace me with this prize,
So of your verse I do let my tongue chime
When me they see; I make myself with lies,
And hope my wit learns well from my false time.
Let me pretend I am what I am not,
Untruth when truth will never be forgot.
I know that some will disagree with me,
Though little in life renders more delight,
With nauseous thoughts theyįre unable to see,
The great joy brought from the feeling of flight.
To soar above the trees as an eagle,
So high the view of Godįs great earth below,
It gives one the thought that he is regal,
As he towers oįer the problems so low.
One flies on wings and the wind that God sends,
To look at His creation from aloft,
Peering on to see what is the Earthįs end,
To fly above the clouds so light and soft.
And he might discover a great release,
And know how good it feels to be at peace.
I. The Offering
Love, which summons from unseen augured thought,
Stealthily their Elysium was built,
Through tempests passed and battles bravely fought,
Grandeur unveiled, spun in Clotho's quilt.
Whence in rhymes which Fasti thus supported,
Noble knights jousting in bannered esteem,
Thus troubadours in ballad recorded,
Life's regard expediently redeemed;
Abreast eternal two poets collide,
More than appears and more than accorded,
Verse to verse Love encountered a reply,
Passions bestowed, charity concorded;
Bared endowment and a temporal boon,
The promise that Love's forbearance end soon.
When the Sky is Falling
When the sky may be falling, have no fear
For the wind will then whisper in your ear
Proclaim, then, the truth, and do not deny
No crack voice but once in your reply
Answer to he who shall ask of thee
"In Mary, the virgin, do you believe,
Which to whom some say He was once conceived?"
Heaven is yours if you shall then reply,
"Jesus is Lord! Creatures, praise Him on high!"
So when the sky is falling, have no fear
For with you now and always, He is near
If you shall die by these or any means
Remember just this one thing: He will reign
And come back to rule the world once again
The day you were born was the best day ever
It seemed to have taken awhile
But, it was all worth it when I saw you smile
The angels above held you forever
In the sky and heavens above the world
You are the most beautiful, little girl
Your sparkling blue eyes gleamed at me
To help you through everything you will need
My soul is warm and complete with happiness
Watching you sleep and filled with such sweetness
My hopes and dreams I have for you
May every one of them come true
My love for you will never diminish
Every second with you I will cherish
The Toenail of Victor Emmanuel II
Mounted in Gold and Presented each New Year's Eve to the Lady of the Moment
Though Vic the Second was the first who gave
A part of himself to Art, those motley blues
Set off by golden filigree confuse
What once were plain parables of the cave.
Like him, sincere informalists who crave
The immortality of Art excuse
Their vulgar lapses of decorum. "Who's
To say," they ask, "how artists must behave?"
The poetry of fact need never lie.
Could metaphor, however wild, disguise
A demi-hoof that mocks a gilded shoe?
O lyric bed-sheet ripper! If verse should try
To whet thee, wrought but half-wild in surmise,
The Victor would be art, the poem you.
On Selfish Whim
On selfish whim I hold tight to your heart
and offer crumbs to stay your tender flirt.
In truth, I wish to consciously avert
an earnest practice of your lovers art.
For if a flash of sloth sent Cupid's dart,
the "L word" from my foolish lips in blurt,
I cannot promise you would not be hurt.
Better to avoid the intimate start,
and save us both the misery of fact;
we are mismatched by nature for the role
of mates intent upon domestic pact.
We do not share an all-important goal
of mine to Live Life Large Inside, and act
on need for true companion to the soul.
The chaste stars that mark your advent season
Have witnessed all the martyrs in the way,
Not blinking seen, not wondering lacking reason
The slaughter of abortion in this day.
This is a new age: our simple pundits
Forecast the olive branch will all replace
The arrows in the claw, and lawless tyrants
Will get democracy and civic grace.
I say other: as men will not repent
A millennium of lust and luxury,
I turn my face from feast towards days of lent
And pay no heed to pagan prophecy:
The past is not ahead, my King has come,
And time to live in Him until it's done.
Leaving Your Mark
What will people think of you when you die?
Will they remember your kind attitude and friendly smile?
Will they find out about your neverending lie?
What will happen when you're put on trial?
The impressions you leave on this world are your choice.
It's all about how you approach your life.
If you enjoy each day and always rejoice,
You'll surely be known as a great friend, an excellent wife.
Do you choose to help others and give it your all?
Do you count your blessigs every day?
Will you be remembered by the "unimportant" and "small"?
Are you leaving a mark in any way?
So go through life remembering these things,
And help with the problems life will forever bring.
The player was ready to kick the ball
The other team waited to receive it
He gave it a very powerful hit
Coaches were screaming to give the right call
It went high but they knew it had to fall
The player caught it like he had a mitt
His main blocker threw a very good hit
It looked like it might be the teams downfall
But the player ran faster than a speeding train
He ran to get the game winning touchdown
The other team had other plans instead
All of a sudden the player felt pain
And the player was knocked hard to the ground
They lost the game and he wept in his bed
Beyond the sky above there is the stars,
beyond the stars there is the dark of space,
what lies beyond? we cannot seek that far,
if only we could journey to that place.
Is heaven what is past the outer shell?
Or is it something we have conjured up,
if so, then where lyeth the gates of hell,
dare we to even take from in that cup.
Beyond our fragile skin there is a heart,
beyond our beating heart there is a soul,
what lies beyond? we cannot seek that far,
but the myst'ries of life do make us whole.
There is an infinite of space within,
To equal that outside our mortal skin.
Angels play melodic songs to cherish
The charm and grace where you have left your mark.
Tangled weaves of winter webs may perish,
And sunny days will quickly turn to dark.
Sudden numbness comes, would you e'er leave me
Upon a broken bow of love's ill fate?
Many windy storms have died down, unseen,
Have ill-respected time and entered late.
Imagining your vision I've no loss
For words, or thinking then to your sweet voice.
I've pondered many paths your love may cross,
Who was to know, mine only, your heart's choice.
Imagine love how you will for all time,
As you read, my love, this sonnet of mine.
A whole new life beyond the door
Seen through my eyes of wonderment
Where a cultured man is no more
Than a child full of excitement,
Wishing to become one of them overnight.
To live the life that they love
I question if my own blood is right
As my senses tempt me to move.
I've always wanted so badly to blend in,
And forsake God's given ethnic label,
But it's not so easy to begin
When years of hardship turned stable.
I know one day I can be that one
Who undoes the work that God has done.
I don't know why you do what you do to me.
I sit here thinking of you,
I cry because I don't know what to do-