Eternally Yours

This blog is maintained by Lawrence Eberhart, and the above note is automated.

This outstanding Heroic Crown of Sonnets was written by Joel M. Frey.

 

In wistful sojourn through a thousand lives,
across the chasmed centuries gone past,
he calls her name; it never quite arrives
to fall upon her ear. Just at the last,
she leaves the hall, or shutters windows closed.
The fading echoes rebound, fall, despair
upon the careless earth, alone who knows
how many times he’s haunted up her stairs
and stood before her door, unwilling hand
hung limply at his side. The heavy years
passed by them both again; he hadn’t planned
that they would not meet. This chance disappears
to speak the truth he knows she knows as well;
two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.

Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell,
a karmic double-helix twists through time.
They spiral ’round, attracted and repelled
by cosmic force, the space between defined
as two arms’ lengths apart. Their fingertips
will brush by chance; the spark that generates
ignites the kindling lust, the heated lips
which speak the wildfire words of love. The fates
dictate the places, times where their paths cross;
circumstances, consequences feed
the choices made. They’ve chosen fire, the loss
of reason, stoking starving naked need,
dance with abandon, passion, without pride;
they trip light-years fantastic side by side.

They trip light-years fantastic side by side.
The pas de deux began in ancient court
of some small city-state. He is a knight
sent by his Queen, a diplomatic sort
of mission. At a dinner hosted by
the local King, the knight, while taking in
who might be helpful or a hindrance spies
a shaken mane of gold, blue eyes within
her stunning face, struck slack with ennui
until she meets his eyes. An eyebrow lifts,
a corner of her mouth curls up, unseen
by all save the old man beside. He shifts,
and stands to pound his staff. The hall is still;
bound by an angered mage’s curs’ed spell

Bound by an angered mage’s curs’ed spell:
“Your burning gaze, Sir Knight…your smile, milass;
returned. You want each other? Very well!
So mote it be; I’ll have it come to pass.
She will be linked to you, eternally
yours, to have, to hold and never love;
to consummate and quench your lust will be
your death. And you shall lust, by Jove above!
I hereby mate your everlasting souls;
condemn you with a love like Hades’ fires,
passion’s heat incinerates you whole.
You’ll take him, child, and kill him with desire.
You’ll die for her; she’ll bring you to her knees
across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas.”

Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas
uncounted years of wandering, he seeks
asylum from the memory of her eyes.
The softest skin, most gently blushing cheeks,
wildest fingers raking skin from back,
ever-changing hips which thrust and thrash;
the tavern wench, the courtesan, all lack
whatever power it would take to smash
his crushing need. An aching pilgrimage,
life spent in shameless chase to slake the lust
imposed by jealous wizard in his rage.
Now weak and old, he walks alone through dust
and sandstorm, seeking solace, final rest
in desert’s scalding carborundum breath

In desert’s scalding carborundum breath
she oversees construction of her tomb.
Her father started it; upon his death,
she left the mage to build the solemn room
of memory. The waves of slaves pour sweat
in rivers onto stones, their muscles scream
and ripple in the undulating heat.
Mirage becomes a staggering man, unseen
by all but she. She mounts and rides to bring
some water, some relief. When their eyes meet,
their souls enmesh, their spirits start to sing,
his failing body falls about her feet.
They’re found again, and still there’s no release;
not even end of life can bring surcease.

Not even end of life can bring surcease;
she lived another twenty years beyond.
His final gaze of longing gave no peace,
but chained her in the everlasting bond
of arcane condemnation. Her damned heart
is pierced by passing seconds, every one
a blunted needle, mildly poisoned dart
not strong enough to stop her pulse’s run.
The mage’s gift to her: the agony
of life remembering her lover’s kiss,
then a death too short to set her free.
It sends her toward another fatal tryst,
spun round again the universe’s width;
their love a measured minuet with death.

Their love a measured minuet with death,
a dance with destiny. They wake again
to unfamiliar bodies, unknown paths
meandering across the haunted plain
of time. A muddy pasture, half a million
blissful stoners join in raucous song:
“…and you make it hard”. Among the hills run
junkie lovers who can do no wrong,
all sharing bodies, needles ’til the smack
runs out. Her shaking arms strapped ‘cross his chest;
he huddles close, awaiting the next stack
of Methadone. He shivers; breathes his last.
She cries and rocks his body, they will spoon
throughout the summer’s thundered afternoon.

Throughout the summer’s thundered afternoon
as heavy clouds erupt on thirsty soil,
cooler air meets skin on fire, a boon
to Magdalene and lover. The sweet oil
washes off, the rain obscures the sound
of marching feet. Centurions approach
and snatch him from her side. “So now you’re found
beside this one, whose last ride gave us such
an evil time. We strung him up, but now
his body’s gone, and you were seen beside
the tomb. You’ll die just as he did, and how.”
She watched another man be crucified.
Supported by her love, in peace he passed
between first breath of spring and winter’s last.

Between first breath of spring and winter’s last,
the royal courtyard at Versailles in bloom
is laid out for the party. Every face
is rouged, each powdered wig precisely groomed.
The hundred soldiers stand down, raise a toast,
Vive le roi! One teasing courtier
seduces a queen’s guard to leave his post.
Behind a hedge, they make love unaware
of peasants, women milling through the gate
in search of bread and royal blood, not cake.
He runs to save the Queen, and seals his fate;
the mob will kill for revolution’s sake.
The oaks a silent witness to his doom
in autumn colors, reds and golds festooned.

In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
the twin moons rise and set, reflecting sun
upon the biodomes. Earth shines down, ruined
by man’s neglect, what could not be undone.
The population by law zero sum;
resource conservation held above
the joy of new life. Parents here must come
to know the anguish of requited love.
She bears his child; they knew too well the chance
they took. The court will force a choice be made:
the father or the child. A tear, a glance
as he’s locked out. She watches as he fades
in cryogenic punishment, life lashed
to winter’s icy shackles holding fast.

To winter’s icy shackles holding fast
her soul, she proffers prayer, slogs through the sleet
toward her cloistered cell. One chilling blast
wraps habit ’round her, knocks her off her feet.
The heavy, sodden cloth, the wind prevents
her gaining purchase on the frozen ground.
From monastery cot, the monk could sense
distress. In thin burnoose he dashed and found
her, cold as stone, yet breathing; swept her up
and rushed her to the hearth. His warm embrace
brings on familiar heat. Their pasts stirred up,
relived, decision made within a trace:
“‘Tis best this time we live, and never start.”
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart.

Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart;
the aching need grows stronger day by day.
He tends her failing health without regard
to duty, vows. Her weak voice strains to say,
“I will be gone before you this time. Hear
me out; this may be what we need to break
our curse. Stay with me as my time grows near;
and love me as the Reaper comes to take
my soul, and finish with me after I
have left. God will forgive sins we’ll commit
for man alone has damned us. We must try
or curse ourselves, continue to submit
to endless pain, remain just as we are:
connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart.”

Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart,
they cling to every moment here and now;
the priceless beating of her failing heart,
his passions roil in an unending flow.
He gazes deep in her eternal eyes
as they glaze over, looking past his face
into the hollow stare of death. She lies
suspended between life and time and space,
to hear an old, familiar voice sound in
her ears. “To dance with death before him
as you rut…how clever! Most astounding
that you’d carry out this futile whim.
He dies; you’ll live, just as the curse defines,
in wistful sojourn through a thousand lives.”

In wistful sojourn through a thousand lives,
Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.
They trip light-years fantastic side by side
Bound by an angered mage’s curs’ed spell.
Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas,
In desert’s scalding carborundum breath
Not even end of life can bring surcease;
Their love a measured minuet with death.
Throughout the summer’s thundered afternoon,
Between first breath of spring and winter’s last,
In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
To winter’s icy shackles holding fast;
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart:
Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart.

(c) 2014 Joel M. Frye

Mirrored Seven Sonnet

This is a sonnet form created by John Thompson, writing on Allpoetry.com as iammisterpoet.

Syllabic: 7 syllable per line
Rhyme scheme: abab cdeedc baba, or alternatively
                             ababcdeedcfgfg.

Volta position not indicated.
The sonnet’s presentation is up to the author.

My Example

Refugees (Mirrored Seven Sonnet)

Required aid’s withheld from some
because of religions’ weight.
Don’t let those extremists come
for that’s just importing hate.

When driven by men of greed
who’ll fly a flag that’s false
intending to demonize
so people will realize
the violence is not our fault,
those greedy men will succeed.

Refuse them, reject the bait
Deny them their beating drum,
Man’s morality cant wait
We win if we don’t succumb.

© Lawrenceaot – January 10, 2016

Visual Template

Mirrored Seven Sonnet

Vocanic Workshop

This is a sonnet form invented and named by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines.

It is stanzaic, consisting of three quatrains and a rhyming couplet
It is written in iambic pentameter.
The rhyme scheme is: abbb ccbb ddbb ee, where the red letters indicate feminine rhyme.

My Example

Poppys Pride

 

Poppy’s Pride (Volcanic Workshop)

The poppy probably does feel it’s blessed
when pondering the universal quest
for beauty by the bards of creatures human.
You don’t deny they think, I’m now assumin’.
“No thorns have I dissuading roaming beasts
yet I’m not favored as a bovine feast.
I’m not as fragrant smelling as is cumin.
I serve to honor killed and missing crewmen,
…and soldiers lost in battles everywhere.
who, fakes upon their lapels proudly wear.
I reject the very thought of doom and
expect that happiness ought be resuming.

For like draws like, and thus most naturally
I often find it peering down at me.”

© Lawrence Eberhart, May 28, 2015

Picture credit: Mary Boren

 

 

Visual Template

(yes, the first foot of L11 is headless.)

Volcanic Workshop

 

 

Volcanic Fireburst

Volcanic Fireburst

This is a sonnet form invented and named by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines.

It is stanzaic, consisting of three quatrains and a couplet
It is written in iambic pentameter.
The rhyme scheme is: abba ccDD eeDD ff, where the capital letters indicate feminine rhyme.

My example

Barefoot Youth (Volcanic Fireburst)

In summertime I never would wear shoes
unless I hiked the rocky mountainside,
and nearly all my time was spent outside,
and shoes I’d choose most happily to lose.

My preference helped mother make ends meet
I felt no anguish playing in bare feet.
My family had its very own depression
and bought me shoes when school began its session.

I felt a pride in having feet so tough,
(it proved that I was made of sterner stuff.)
When roads of tar got hot there was no question,
I’d stand on them to make a deep impression.

My feet today have nothing wrong at all
though other parts succumb to aging’s call.

© Lawrencealot – April 29, 2015

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Volcanic Fireburst

Wreathed and Unwreated Sonnets

Wreathed and Unwreathed Sonnets

Wreathed poetry is simply a natural blending of English poetry with the Celtic Welsh. Its creator George Herbert was born into a wealthy artistic family in Wales and later was educated in Trinity College, Cambridge and was unpublished until after his death. It is believed that his poem A Wreath was inspired by the Welsh form Englyn cryrch which uses an internal rhyme scheme with an external one. Remembering that Herbert was formerly an accademic and would have been aware of the sonnet, but it would not be formalised during Herberts lifetime and so in The Wreath he gives his own version of the sonnet:

A Wreath

A Wreathed garland of deserved praise,

Of praise deserved, unto thee I give,

I give to thee, who knowest all my wayes,

My crooked winding wayes, wherein I live,

Wherein I die, not live: for life is straight,

Straight as a line, and ever tends to thee,

To thee, who art more farre above deceit,

Then deceit seems above simplicitie.

Give me simplicitie, that I may live,

So live and like, that I may know, thy wayes,

Know them and practise them: then shall I give

For this poore wreath, give thee a crown of praise.

from The Temple (1633) by George Herbert

The sonnet sometimes considered to consist of an Octave, and a Sestet, both as well as having a standard rhyming form but also possesing internal rhymes.

The octave in reality is two Quatrains linked by the internal rhyme, and similarly the sestet

If the octave is linked to the sestet by an internal rhyme, then it should be presented as a fourteen (14) line poem, and if not then as an eight (8), six (6). Like the Petrarch sonnet, no meter would have been set, so that is left to the discretion of the poet. The basic form is thus:

x. x. x. x. x. x. x. a.

x. a. x. x. x. x. x. b.

x. b. x. x. x. x. x. a.

x. a. x. x. x. x. x. b.

x. b. x. x. x. x. x. c.

x. c. x. x. x. x. x. d.

x. d. x. x. x. x. x. c.

x. c. x. x. x. x. x. d.

x. x. x. x. x. x. x. e.

x. e. x. x. x. x. x. f.

x. b. x. x. x. x. x. e.

x. e. x. x. x. x. x. b.

x. b. x. x. x. x. x. e.

x. e. x. x. x. x. x. f.

Here is an example of that form

Moonlight’s Glow

The nights I touch the moon’s pure light

and bathe in starlight to wait your kiss.

Your lover’s kiss that starts my flight,

and fly the skies of passion’s bliss.

The blissful thoughts that fill my days,

the endless days we are apart,

The parting mists reveal the haze,

in hazy dreams, I give my heart.

A token heart, my lover’s oath,

my oath of honour made to you

to see your smile reflect the moon

In moonlight’s glow, there lies love’s growth

and grow as one in all that’s true,

The truth of love our sacred tune.

Sarah Rayburn

Another alternative is simply three Quatrains and a Couplet. with or without internal links Un-wreath Poetry

The same rules apply to the Un- wreath sonnet as the previous wreath forms, you will also notice in this one, the sestet has been linked to the octave. Here is the basic rhyme scheme:

x. b. x. x. x. x. x. a.

x. a. x. x. x. x. x. b.

x. b. x. x. x. x. x. a.

x. c. x. x. x. x. x. b.

x. d. x. x. x. x. x. c.

x. c. x. x. x. x. x. d.

x. d. x. x. x. x. x. c.

x. f. x. x. x. x. x. d.

x. e. x. x. x. x. x. f.

x. f. x. x. x. x. x. e.

x. e. x. x. x. x. x. f.

x. f. x. x. x. x. x. e.

x. e. x. x. x. x. x. f.

x. x. x. x. x. x. x. e.

A purist might insist that both forms should be 14ers and that the last line should link back to the first one.

Pasted from http://www.thepoetsgarret.com/sonnet/wreath.html

Many thanks to John Clitheroe for his work on the PoetsGarret site.

My example

Fantasy Augment
Fantasy Augment,
a Wreathed Sonnet inspired by Vladislav Yeliseyev

Intruding on day’s failing light
the bright reflections in the sky
defy all reason, but delight
in spite of that; look how they fly
so high beyond the birds. I know
their glow announces festive cheer
for here we meet both bride and beau
with bouquets thrown – such times held dear.
The mansion, of itself is fine,
and wine will flow, and folks will dance
supplying memories by design
refined by being here. Don’t try
denying illusions that shine
divinely, when they get the chance.

© Lawrence Eberhart, April 22, 2015

Picture credit: Photo of Phillipi Mansion
painted by Vladislav Yeliseyev

 

Visual Templates

Wreathed Sonnet1

Wreathed Sonnet2

 

Visayan Splash

Visayan splash

This is a sonnet form invented and named by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines.

It is stanzaic, consisting of three quatrains and a couplet
It is written in iambic pentameter.
The rhyme scheme is: abcb bcdc cdad da

My Example

Magic Firelight (Visayan Splash)

Magic Firelight

Divorced and visiting my west-coast friends;
not yet re-grounded, mescaline seemed fine.
While lying prone upon the cabin floor,
I watched the fireplace with a son of mine.

The firelight photons seemed almost divine
and shimmered like they never had before.
They’d hit the ceiling, then they’d break apart
and flicker like a twinkle’s brief encore.

My son observed it too, that’s what he swore.
What I thought hallucinogenic art
my four-year-old could very plainly see.
We grow, we learn, we think we’re getting smart;

But kids can see the hidden from the start,
how wonderful it is to be so free.

© Lawrencealot – April 16, 2015

 

Image credit: http://ap-pics2.gotpoem.com/ap-pics/contest/2646/438.jpg?eyes_of_a_child

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Visayan Splash

Kal’s First Fireburst

Kal’s First Fireburst

This is a sonnet form invented and named by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines.

It is stanzaic, consisting of three quatrains and a couplet
It is written in iambic pentameter.
The third line in each stanza must have a feminine end-word.
Rhyme Pattern:  abcb bcdc cded de, where the red letters indicate feminine rhyme.

Example poem

Owed to Judges (Kal’s First Fireburst)

Someone is tasked with being judge, of course
in any competition of the arts.
Most earn the right thru their displayed performance;
they know the subject and its many parts.

Ascension doesn’t come in fits and starts.
Good judges are not found by happenstance.
The choosers can’t be slouches (lest they’re wealthy
when finding talent’s just a game of chance.)

Ekphrastic work by poets should enhance
appreciation of the art they see
The poet’s not the judge of what’s been rendered
yet his interpretation talks to me.

So, judges I applaud you, don’t you see?
It’s challenging to have the final word.

© Lawrencealot – April 14, 2015

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Kals First Fireburst

 

Malayan Wave Sonnet – English Format

Malayan Wave Sonnet –  English Format
Quatorzain – Generally Iambic Petameter
Volta at or following line 9
Octet + Sestet
rhyming pattern: aaba bbcb ccdc dd 
This is a form invented and named by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines.
 

My example

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening (Malayan Wave English Format)
 
Who owns the woods it matters not a bit
I’ll stop and merely look while I just sit
upon my horse  and watch the snowflakes fall.
The horse unused to stopping, chomps the  bit.
The deep and lovely woods present to all
a quiet peace away from city’s sprawl
A quiet montage – simply metaphor
displaying beauty differently than fall.
As whiteness coats the trees and forest floor
and amplifies the dwindling light yet more.
I drink up wonder, nurturing my soul
but cluck to horse  now, “Let’s complete our chore.”
  Demands of daily life  define our role,
appreciating life  should be our goal.
 
© Lawrencealot – October 27,2012

Visual Template

Maylan Wave Sonnet

 

Malayan Fireburst

Malayan Fireburst

This is a sonnet form invented and named by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines.

Unlike the Sonnets I have documented before which require feminine rhyme, this is the first, that requires “wrenched” rhyme, rhyming a feminine rhyme with a masculine rhyme. 

It is stanzaic, consisting of three quatrains and a couplet
It is written in iambic pentameter.
The rhyme scheme is: aaba bbcb ccdc dd, where the 3rd line in each quatrain must be feminine rhyme. (In each case you will be rhyming with masculine rhyme in the following couplet. This is know as wrenched rhyme.)

Note: except for the feminine rhyme requirement this is identical to the Maylayan Wave Sonnet, found HERE. 

Regarding wrenched rhyme, I quote from a man much more researched and learned than I:
_____

Rhyming a stressed syllable with an unstressed one – e.g. thing and having – is a dubious practice but was once considered respectable. John Donne used to do it. It is sometimes known as ligReht rhyme, or hermaphrodite rhyme, or (despite its lack of virtue) virtual rhyme. (I have also heard this called apocopated rhyme, but apocopated rhyme is really something else). For a long time I was baffled by a number of pages on the web that refer to virtual rhyme as “wrenched rhyme”, for I was convinced that that phrase ought to refer to something quite different. It turns out that Peter Dale (a distinguished poet and translator) has produced a categorisation of rhymes, among which he includes wrenched stress rhyme (which is my “virtual rhyme”) and wrenched sense rhyme (which is my wrenched rhyme). The two different meanings of the word “wrenched” may well pre-date Mr Dale.

Pasted from http://www.volecentral.co.uk/vf/rhyme.htm#wrenched sense rhyme

My thanks to Bob Newman for his years of work on the wonderful Volecentral resource.

 

My example

Remedial Action (Maylayan Fireburst)

Removed from urban crush his cabin sits
above where finally the sagebrush quits.
His land abuts a park that’s mostly forest.
A stealthy person’s action gives him fits.

His firewood disappears, and he has guessed
his neighbor’s taking it without request,
and Bob’s a guy who’d surely grant permission
but thievery’s the thing that’s got him stressed.

He has no proof, just knows the deed is done,
and even speaking out would be no fun;
So how’d Bob act to get the misdeeds ended?
He fixed a piece of firewood – only one.

A blasting cap was what he did embed.
The thefts all quit, and nothing more was said.

© Lawrencealot – April 10, 2014

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Maylayan Fireburst

Solihull Sonnet

The Solihull sonnet form was invented by Barry Hopkins, a Silhillian*, writing on Allpoetry as Black Narcissus , and composed as a double sonnet. Which I have shown below.

The sonnet may be written in either iambic pentameter or tetrameter.
A volta is optional,
(Which makes for a easy story telling sonnet.)
but if it occurs shall occur at line 13.
Rhyme Scheme ababababababcc.
(Differs from the Indonesian Sonnet, only by the final couplet.)

Yes, It Has Got Summer’s Day In It, But It’s Not What You Think.

Alas it was a day of bland cliché
where every line was naught but platitude;
my inspiration – ‘ Fifty Shades of Grey ‘
was more like shaking hands with gratitude;
I searched for something bawdy and risqué,
lascivious with fifty shades of lewd,
yet I seemed more engrossed by peach soufflé,
had I become a straight-laced, priggish prude?
Where once my mind obsessed on lingerie
my only contemplation was of food;
downcast I strolled into a strange cafe
to ponder this decorous attitude.
The waitress had come-hither, deep blue eyes,
but I just stared at all the apple pies.

“ What bothers you, this wondrous summer’s day? “
She asked and said “ I’m sorry to intrude.”
I spoke to her of my complete dismay
as on my apple pie I slowly chewed.
The more we talked the more I begged her stay
and sensed a subtle changing to my mood,
it seems we talked the afternoon away
by evening I was such a horny dude.
A man has urges that he must obey
and those cannot be baked or barbecued,
all thought of food was now in disarray
would she be as delicious in the nude?
That night was one of whispering and sighs,
the sort a poet must immortalize.

 

* Solihull is one of the most prosperous towns in the English Midlands. In November 2013, the uSwitch Quality of Life Index named Solihull the “best place to live” in the United Kingdom.  Residents of Solihull and those born in the town are referred to as Silhillians.  The motto of Solihull is Urbs in Rure (Town in Country).
Pasted from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solihull

 

My example

My Vagabond Youth (Solilhull Sonnet)

I wandered everywhere when I was young,
at first on foot around the countryside,
then later I hitch-hiked or rode among
the hobos who preferred a freight to ride.
Throughout the western states my hat was hung
in restaurants where my chores for food were plied
and in resort campgrounds where songs were sung.
I slept on beaches cleaned up by the tide,
and shared the food that other folks had brung;
the tales I told them kept them satisfied.
I may have spoke at times with fork’ed tongue
embellished tales – I never outright lied.
I later ventured East, but came back West
to settle in the country I liked best.

© Lawrencealot – April 7, 2015

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Solihull Sonnet