The Sonnet Challenge

2/3/2012

Class-generated guidelines for the Sonnet Challenge

Your sonnet should contain:

1. 14 lines
2. Attempted iambic pentameter (or at least around 10 syllables per line)
3. Shakespearean or Petrarchan rhyme scheme--slant rhyme counts!
4. A 1-2 paragraph response to discuss process and intentions.


        Ms. Draper-generated additional notes:

        1. Please feel free to post sonnets and/or responses in the comments!

        2. In order to receive credit for the assignment, you must take the assignment seriously.

      3. Of course, if you are subsequently inspired to write a series of silly, inane sonnets, go for it.

18 Comments

Jenny Jeffrey link

2/3/2012 12:49:42 pm

A Love Poem That I Meant To Be Sincere (But In Which I Instead Rhymed “Cake” With “Cake”)

In food I find I have a constant friend.
The outlet for my pain is chocolate cake.
It listens to complaining without end
Until I eat it. Chocolate and good cake!

A better pairing Nature canst devise!
Now, some might say one can’t partake of love;
To them I put the counterpoint: a slice.
No other do I heartily approve.

A human wants for social interaction.
A pet might shed and cover clothes with hair.
At best, a hobby’s more of a distraction.
But cake, old friend, requires little care.

The point I inexpertly try to make
Is that I want another piece of cake.

~~~~

I’m so sorry.

That is a title in iambic pentameter. I await all of the awards. Also, did anyone spot the horrible pun?…“Heartily”? Love poem? No? Okay.

Destiny literally asked me, “What led you to your process? Why cake? How accurate is your poem according to the guidelines of a sonnet?” so I’ll go with that. My process involved lots of tapping, rephrasing, and on one occasion making up a word that turned out to be a real thing (“canst”). Before I knew this would be about a cake and not some other more serious topic, I knew my approximate rhyme scheme and structure. I wanted the first quatrain to be a little angsty and somewhat similar to the sort of whining we did in “On Untitled Poems,” which manifested itself in “outlet for my pain” and the self-deprecating “complaining without end”—both of which I think are accurate and, now, pretty funny paired with cake. I wanted to tackle some kind of opposing arguments in the other two, although I wasn’t sure what they would be until...you know...cake. The first-person narration gave me some trouble, because I hate it, but it’s easier to write with emotions if I can assign them to myself—and then I can make fun of myself. (Note the bits where I scorn “human...interaction,” mention that the whole thing is done “inexpertly,” and call the cake “old friend” as in “buddy” and as in “well, I left that out too long, but that will not prevent me from eating it.” That’s a conversation I have with myself more than I’d like to admit.) Apparently, this sonnet was a revelation straight from my soul.

This isn’t a perfect English sonnet. Aside from the ridiculous tone (which reaches a critical point in the third quatrain), my rhyming ability became provably legendary when I rhymed “cake” and “cake,” then used “cake” at the end of a line /again/ later. I tried for a little internal-rhyming consistency; I threw “partake” into the verse in which I didn’t use the word “cake,” but that’s the same one that has only slant rhymes, so it’s not quite like the rest of the sonnet. There are several lines of not-quite-iambic pentameter, though it’s possible to read them smoothly in iambic pentameter if you’ve got the rhythm going—but the variety keeps the poem interesting, anyway, and the one case of a trochee instead of an iamb (where a new sentence starts in the middle of a line) seemed to fit better than the alternative. I also have two eleven-syllable lines, but they rhyme with each other and flow smoothly. There are two other lines that count on “chocolate” sounding as if it only has two syllables. For the most part, though, I think it’s structurally sound.

I really didn’t mean for it to be about cake. I’ll probably write another one that’s a little more serious and analyze that one, instead. I don’t know where this even came from.

Destiny Desroche

2/3/2012 01:14:42 pm

I love your poem because it's you. It's perfect, and for the people that know you, it makes sense. You heard most of my comments before, so I guess I'll just say me gusta and leave it at that.

Jenny Jeffrey

2/3/2012 10:58:10 pm

Thank you for agreeing that I prefer food to people! I appreciate that. /Really/.

Destiny Desroche link

2/3/2012 01:05:17 pm

Death, a Retrospective

Though we expect his cold skeletal touch,

We shy away from those bony fingers;

A cruel reminder of our mortal crutch.

His icy grasp will forever linger--

A mark upon the soul—his last judgment.

Just before we pass through that final veil

We remember our silence and statements.

Our love and hatred; that one time we failed.

Our friends and family; no time for regrets.

Lay down your sorrow and calm your mind now;

The reaper is here to collect your debt.

Whisper your last prayer and take a bow.

As you draw your last breath I hope you learned,

That death will not wait when it is your turn.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Okay, so I’m well aware that I have very little iambic form in here, but I followed the structure of a sonnet for the most part. Every line has 10 syllables, and I used an English sonnet rhyme scheme (look at that heroic couplet that will send me to the guidance office). This was a struggle for me at first because I sincerely wanted to try and use the iambic structure, but I couldn’t do it without screaming at a wall for an hour, so I gave up. Rather than write a poem about love or a hobby, I decided to go out of the box and talk about a topic that some of us try to avoid—death. I love retrospective poetry and prose, so I decided to give it a try. I’m fully prepared for the mocking and jeering of my fellow classmates on Monday (Jenny and Casey). The narration was supposed to be in first person, so judge away. My favorite line “A cruel reminder of our mortal crutch” took me half an hour to get together because I couldn’t find a rhyming word for touch. My rhyme scheme was actually pretty important to my sonnet because I wanted every line to leave you thinking. Words like judgment, regrets and failed are harsh and leave an impact, so I wasn’t gentle about tossing in a guilt-trip.

I want you guys to be a little creeped out by this. It’s kind of the point. We talk about death and read about it all the time, but how often do we consider how long we have left? Anything could happen at any time, but we try to forget about mortality and move on. My couplet was meant to reflect the ignorance or denial of the possibility of death. By the way, I really do think about these things a lot more than is probably healthy.

-an analyhoo

Destiny Desroche link

2/3/2012 01:13:04 pm

Also, my quatrains disappeared...I'll repost the poem.

Death, a Retrospective

Though we expect his cold skeletal touch,
We shy away from those bony fingers;
A cruel reminder of our mortal crutch.
His icy grasp will forever linger--

A mark upon the soul—his last judgment.
Just before we pass through that final veil
We remember our silence and statements.
Our love and hatred; that one time we failed.

Our friends and family; no time for regrets.
Lay down your sorrow and calm your mind now;
The reaper is here to collect your debt.
Whisper your last prayer and take a bow.

As you draw your last breath I hope you learned,
That death will not wait when it is your turn.

--------------------------------------------------
So, the reason I have a weird set-up here is because I wanted an interesting transition. From the first quatrain to the second there is a sense of unease and I wanted the reader to create some sort of expectation and continue on. I split up the "our" lines for two reasons. I wanted the impact of "failure" and "regret" to be on two different levels. Regret can stem from failure, so I wanted that transition. I don't know if this is only making sense in my head, but I tried to explain, so yeah. Thanks again.

-another analyhoo

Jenny

2/3/2012 11:07:57 pm

Your punctuation! It makes no sense! Brain...burning!

But I love this. I really do. "Mortal crutch" was a work of art, because I recall that, for a long time, you were going to kill a Dutch man. It helps that /that/ line is actually in iambic pentameter! My only genuine complaint is that the word "last" is everywhere. "Final," Destiny, "final."

I'm glad you also picture Death as a skeleton. DOES HE SPEAK IN CAPITAL LETTERS?

I think you might have a sneak pun in there somewhere! "The reaper is here to collect your debt." I /know/ you're a Repo! fan, because I've heard you sing, so is there a little Reaper Man = Repo Man thing going on there?

Casey Rosenberg

2/4/2012 09:28:25 am

Alone, the heart soars silent o'er the field,
An echo of a promise to unfold.
It knows not that the battlefield is cold,
And feigns the truth that it has never healed.
Below, the ghosts, uncaring things, so old;
Like tarnished bells they mourn; their chords have tolled,
Crescendoing till one will have to yield.

The crooked heart for hope begins to yearn:
Its stitches tear as if to break in turn.
A soldier, it will leap into the fray;
Fearing not to bleed, to breathe, to burn.
My wish, then, is for you to choose to stay.

____________

Okay. So analysis?
I decided to go with a Petrarchan sonnnet. My rhyme scheme is ABBABBA-CCDCD. I THINK it's perfect iambic pentameter...and I believe I kept to the form. The way I went about it....I chose word endings that I wanted to use, that had a lot of good words that I could choose from and basically built my sonnet around those. So essentially I had the ending of every line picked out before I wrote the full line. It was a bit of challenge because I skipped around a lot and I had some really stellar lines and phrases that really didn't fit or create any sort of deeper meaning or story. Like...instead of bells I was trying to make a line about choirs at first and then violin strings, but I ended up using bells because I wanted to use the word "tolled."
Some other phrases I had: "vile lovers to behold" was almost used... and then something about dancing. And "like tangled strings; they scratch with bows" and I was originally going to have "not to bleed, to freeze, to burn" but I ended up using "breathe" because I wanted alliteration. Also it fit the emotions I was trying to express. Hope you enjoy. ^ ^

Jenny Jeffrey

2/4/2012 09:29:17 am

FETCH A BUCKET FOR MY CRIES.

Casey Rosenberg

2/4/2012 09:35:16 am

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!

I FORGOT TWO LINES. JUST KILL ME. I WANT DEATH.

Casey Rosenberg

2/4/2012 10:11:37 am

*EDITED
_____________________________

Alone, the heart soars silent o'er the field,
An echo of a promise to unfold.
It knows not that the battlefield is cold.
The hands clasp sallow fingers still concealed
And feign the truth: that it has never healed.
Below, the ghosts, uncaring things, so old;
Like tarnished bells they mourn: their chords have tolled,
Crescendoing till one will have to yield

The crooked heart for hope begins to yearn:
Its stitches tear as if to break in turn.
A soldier, it will leap into the fray;
Fearing not to bleed, to breathe, to burn,
But what their steely eyes cannot descern,
My wish, then, is for you to choose to stay.

Jenny Jeffrey

2/4/2012 10:12:00 am

FETCH A SLIGHTLY LARGER BUCKET FOR MY CRIES.

AS A GRAMMAR NAZI I CANNOT ALLOW THIS TO GO ON.

2/4/2012 10:14:24 am

FOR THE THIRD TIME:
FINAL DRAFT HOLY MCLORDCHRIST IN A HANDBASKET
*EDITED
_____________________________

Alone, the heart soars silent o'er the field,
An echo of a promise to unfold.
It knows not that the battlefield is cold.
The hands clasp sallow fingers still concealed
And feign the truth: that it has never healed.
Below, the ghosts, uncaring things, so old;
Like tarnished bells they mourn--their chords have tolled,
Crescendoing till one will have to yield.

The crooked heart for hope begins to yearn:
Its stitches tear as if to break in turn.
A soldier, it will leap into the fray;
Fearing not to bleed, to breathe, to burn,
But what their steely eyes cannot discern,
My wish, then, is for you to choose to stay.

David Fulton

2/5/2012 11:41:46 am

Help Thou My Unbelief

“Lord I believe, help thou my unbelief.”
So says my soul almost eternally.
Your grace-filled moments of divine relief
From doubt that conquers me internally
Seem insufficient to this fallen soul.
And yet you ever bring me through the fire;
Not unburnt, perhaps, yet always safe and whole.
Although my faith may flag, you never tire,
And never cease to try and guide me home.
You sought me out when I was but a worm
And called me Son and said, “You’re not alone,”
And though I stray you swear to hold me firm.

What love is this, that loveth just the same,
Both when I walk in light and walk in shame?

This was actually the second of the two sonnets I wrote, once I started getting more into it. It's about faith, essentially, and how hard it is to hold on to. Writing it was actually one of the best things ever; poetry somehow encourages more honesty than prose.

The beginning could possibly be read as a trochee, although it's really up to the reader. "Not unburnt" is definitely an anapest, and is meant to be. There's also a slant-rhyme in there, with "home" and alone, which is so slanted it's practically vertical.

The following poem is the first I wrote:

O Life!

Inconstant mistress of my body’s fire,
Whose swaying changes by the very hour,
First giving joy and meeting all desire,
Then making sweetness suddenly turn sour.
Thou only come when thou art not my aim,
But deny me all your oaths when I first strive
To conquer you. Success and wealth and fame
I cannot seek, for seeking thus my drive
Is flaw’d from start. But when I look above
Your smirking face and am surprised by joy,
Then quick you follow after with your love,
Desiring to again make me your toy.
O Life! So filled with promises of gladness,
And yet so quick to drag us down to sadness.

This sonnet began as a love-poem written to life, and turned into just the opposite. It's about how, when we make temporal and material things our be-all-end-all, we end up unhappy, but when we focus on higher things we find fulfillment.

In terms of meter, the real oddity here is the couplet. Eleven syllables each. The lines are iambic except for that last syllable, which is unstressed. After trying to force them into respectable pentameter, I've decided that they read best that way, with a downward cadence at the end. It fits in well with the tone of the poem, I think.

Ms. Draper

2/5/2012 08:36:15 pm

Wow, great sonnets everyone!

I am enjoying the range of forms and topics. I also like reading about your process. 'Tis very enlightening. Oh, sorry, Shakespearean slip....

Devin Ludwig

2/6/2012 07:53:46 am

I suppose I shall follow suit then and post this here.
I'm not sure how crazy I am about what I wrote but here it goes nonetheless.

On sun-drenched sands I see us lay.
How perfect could this life now be?
Dear friends all free to laugh, and play,
be wild and reckless and oh so free.

Our bare skin shines in Summer sun;
our hair flown loose as auburn waves.
We rise and to the water run:
the soothing cool our scorched skin craves.

We trace each other's faded scars.
We hope that sad is in the past.
Together under faithful stars,
the sun is gone, the day has passed.

How perfect is this Summer day:
the last before youth drifts away?

Devin again

2/6/2012 08:00:04 am

I chose to write in iambic tetrameter, I hope this isn't too big of a deal. My brain just naturally tends that way I suppose because I attempted multiple sonnets and every line I could think of was 8 or occasionally 9 syllables. I guess I wrote it as a memory that hasn't really happened yet? Like a future projection of a memory? Anyway I enjoy writing poetry however I'm not too fond of the strict sonnet form in general. It is pretty easy to "think iambically?" shall I say, because speech patterns really do tend to follow that meter. I only had to manipulate a couple of lines to work what I wanted to say.
Rhyming wasn't to bad either, granted I did choose words that are pretty simple to rhyme, I tried not to go the obvious route too much though. As you can surely tell, I'm quite the fan of the rhetorical question. I'm surprised I only managed to fit two in these 14 lines.
I quite like my couplet however I'm not sure I was able to get across the emotion which I was going for in those last two lines. I couldn't fit the write words into the rhyme and meter. That's my analysis. I hope my poem isn't too horrible.

asdkjfhgajsgf

2/6/2012 08:01:10 am

*too erggg... I wish you could go back and edit posts.

rldufhgksdhgsdfagain

2/6/2012 08:02:19 am

*right... I write too quickly.

The Sonnet Challenge

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