Archive for sonnet

The Siren’s Lullaby

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 23, 2016 by bigtuna185

*This was my first attempt at ever trying to write a sonnet in its true traditional form. It was a process, but an enjoyable one.*
  
If only there were other ways to stay

In close proximity for sleeping eyes. 

A cushion left behind, indeed it cries, 

“Come home to me, for I will soon repay

Your company with shelter from the day.”

The bitter sun, with golden hands it pries

My slumber and rest, unwillingly dies. 

This forceful torture makes this poet crazy. 
However, there is more than just this plight. 

This life alone is built for greater things. 

I can’t bemoan my weak and wearied state

While people daily defy their twists of fate. 

For privilege remains common and trite

To those whose only problems are alarm rings.  

 

Unfurled

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 20, 2016 by bigtuna185

sailingintothestorm

Scars and wounds afflict this tortured heart
From battles won and lost valiantly;
This causes cynicism to impart
Its hollow creed to rot inside of me.

Deserted and abandoned all alone
Was how I lived despite my aching soul,
Bruised and beaten, hope itself unknown,
My weathered mind had surely paid the toll.

Stormy days raged skyward from up above,
Little chance for light to pierce the great expanse,
But winds do often change persisting love
To move from naught; endearing thoughts advance.

If but a single draft would catch the sail,
Bring wayward, lonely Love back without fail.

The Siren’s Lullaby

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on January 5, 2016 by bigtuna185

*This is my first attempt at the traditional sonnet format. While difficult at first, it became enjoyable to try and match my syllable count and rhyme scheme while also trying to have the whole poem make sense too. Hope you enjoy it.*

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If only there were other ways to stay
In close proximity for sleeping eyes.
A cushion left behind, indeed it cries,
“Come home to me, for I will soon repay
Your company with shelter from the day.”
The bitter sun with golden hands it pries
My slumber and rest, unwillingly dies.
This forceful torture makes this poet crazy.

However, there is more than just this plight.
This life alone is built for greater things.
I can’t bemoan my weak and wearied state
While people daily defy their twists of fate.
For privilege remains common and trite
To those whose only problems are alarm rings.