Acrostic Tribute Sonnet

Acrostic Tribute Sonnet
Form invented by Ron Morris writing as Nobody Special on All Poetry.

Stanzaic:
Meter: Optional
Rhyme Scheme: Poet’s choice
Structured: The first letters of each line, followed by the title sets forth the message.

This is his first example:

An Angel

Golden smile and silver hair
Remarkable stories she would share
Always a laugh and never despair
Note that everyone would swear
None to this lady could ever compare
You knew this lady was very rare.

Could say she was a millionaire
Love she got from everywhere
And even from her armchair
I would say she’ll always care
Red roses belong to this lady fair
Even George and Cecil would declare.

I’ll know her by her wit and flair
Should I ever see another Granny Claire. . . . .

Here is my first attempt:

Cheer to Friends (Acrostic Tribute Sonnet)

Until you’ve spent some time with Bob, you will
Not know the pain he’s overcome and yet
Clearly his determination still
Lets joy and optimism be his bet
Each day. An outing with him is a thrill
Because he thinks if you’re alive you’re set.

On family matters, he is thrilled to pieces
Because of siblings who always have cared,
Bob’s proud of pretty, cool and loving nieces
Recalling happiness they all have shared.
In nature, Bob sees God’s own masterpieces!
No one from friendly humor will be spared.

Get out with Bob, and be prepared to smile
Since he believes those smiles are well worthwhile.

Lawrence Eberhart, July 2017

Here is a visual template for this iambic pentameter poem

Queen’s Sonnet

Created by Lisa Morris writing on All Poetry as Streambed
Syllabic: 10 syllables per line, meter optional
Stanzaic: 3 Quatrain plus a couplet
Rhyme Scheme: abba ccac deed ff

Her initial poem:

Lady of the House(Queen’s Sonnet)

I went back to the tree he gave to me
along with all the land that  held its roots; 
it was the first of many of love’s fruits.
He bought me next a fine house by the sea,

Yes, filled its every place with roses, rare.
He gilded out the room that we would share,
and gave me its emerald-laden key;
Inside, I found new wardrobes there to wear. 

But  in this bed, while he held me so near
I missed my father’s farmhouse and my sheep
which on clear nights I heard, though sound asleep.
I felt so safe at home; my flocks were dear!

Now I am over many grand estates,
sweet sheep far off, outside great golden gates.

Lisa Morris @ 2017

My attempt:

Pioneer Souls     (Queen’s Sonnet)

Besotted, Quigly quickly lost his heart.
He worked long days a’herding Long-horn steers
but, weekly danced and quaffed a couple beers;
then dreamed all week of Queenie, quite the tart.

She ran the doves, (called  soiled), who worked upstairs
and gave them larger than their normal shares,
for this  for each, was only but a start,
and madam Queenie was a gal who cares.

Each year the town put on a social dance
and there the Queen and Quigly stepped and swayed
and Quigly, quiet, calm and unafraid
proposed and both accepted life’s new chance.

The town turned out to see the couple wed
then watched them grow a pretty country spread.

Lawrence Eberhart, July 2017

 

Visual Template for Iambic Pentameter

Deplorable

This is a sonnet form invented  by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines, and not yet named, by him. This temporary name provided by Lawrence Eberhart.

It is stanzaic, consisting of quatrain, quatrain, couplet, quatrain. 
It is metric, written in iambic pentameter.
It is Refrained
rhyming pattern: aaaB cccB dd eeebB

Here are Jose’s initial writes.

XXIV. The Deplorables

We do not bear a dainty name
to shield from slander or from shame.
Quite merrily we play the game.
Because we are Deplorables!

We fear no libtards weeping loud;
nor foul illegals, quite a crowd;
nor terrorists with bomb and shroud.
Because we are Deplorables!

There’s one thing all must understand:
we shall protect our Motherland!

This land is ours, do not forget.
Don’t undermine nor pose a threat.
For otherwise you shall regret.
Because we are Deplorables!

— Jose Rizal M. Reyes
February 14, 2017A

Third-person-plural version:

XXIV. The Deplorables

They do not bear a dainty name
to shield from scoffers and from shame.
Quite merrily they play the game.
Because they are Deplorables!

They fear no libtards weeping loud;
nor foul illegals, quite a crowd;
nor terrorists with bomb and shroud.
Because they are Deplorables!

There’s one thing all must understand:
they will protect their Motherland!

It is their land, don’t yout forget.
Don’t undermine nor pose a threat.
For otherwise you shall regret.
Because they are Deplorables!

— Jose Rizal M. Reyes
February 14, 2017A

My Example

A Rogue in Time

If America should be number one,
then Globalists must somehow be undone
and all elites be forced to share the fun.
We need a rogue to put this country straight.

Now multiculturalism ‘s not the goal –
assimilation serves a better role
when any nation cherishes its’soul.
We need a rogue to put this country straight,

I love the land in which I’ve grown and thrived
but far too little spirit has survived.

The liberals think the right thing is to give ,
and thus attract the “gimmees” here to live
til now we finally need to plug the sieve.
We need a rogue to put this country straight.

© Lawrenece Eberhart – April 9, 2017

Visual Template

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

Visual Template

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

Visual template

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

Visual template

Kals First Fireburst