Dénouement (a sonnet tiara)


They hear the cracking sounds in Paradise
each giant movement racked with so much pain
those great ships plowing through the polar ice
sound damp as squibs caught in October rain.
Erosion downward fairly strikes the Earth
and if we thought it was a fallacy
that soil is wealth, yet there’s an end to worth,
that vitriol, degradability,
lies still as asphalt on a country road
deceptive, almost, in disquietude;
our SUVs skidmark their spoiled abode
but now must reckon with their plenitude.
Reality so bright, it hurts our eyes
with jagged lightning bolts of compromise.


With jagged lightning bolts of compromise
tectonic fates and bedrock come unsealed
gargantuan though it may seem in size
our billions dwarf the planet’s battlefield.
The heftiness of us constricts her girth;
the forced ballet she dances gaunt and thin
as metronomes can scarcely hide their mirth
they beat their triumph, and time closes in.
A breathless rasp is how to best describe
her scrap of voice, a denigrated blur;
for human rights, we mount a diatribe
and yet who spends one liberty for her?
Earth’s dénouement trails off in grand absurds.
And selfishly we grate out autumn words.



And selfishly we grate out autumn words,
malign and somber any sky of blue
delight in punished letters afterwards
twist every sunlight to a fading hue.
Inanimacy, tiny sharpnesses.
As if we’re filming and in two small frames
what once was priceless, craft in every tress,
lies shattered, edges on a heap in flames.
Without a second glance, the things we do —
behold Earth brazenly, pick up a knife
then murder air and water, only two
of all her children, as we autumn life.
Sweet embered light, forced to misshapen curds,
new moons, dry leaves blown free of hummingbirds.



New moons, dry leaves blown free of hummingbirds;
we have the gall to wonder shamelessly
how we inherited a life of thirds.
Apocalypse arrives in tribes of three.
Like freshly emptied childhood happiness
how often does the globe just turn your way
if ev’rything you do will wrap distress
in sabotage, rolled up in disarray?
If you placed spike strips on the highway lanes,
forgot yourself, raced back and tires blew
your foolish act would aneuryse your veins,
your mind made ready for the death of you.
Bewilderment still dares to question why
as oceans spill into unearthly sky.



As oceans spill into unearthly sky,
dark endlessness lodged deep in outer space,
the body planet will transmogrify,
the laws of physics twisted out of place.
Lost forest splinters through the atmosphere
with China sticking to America
then swaths of mountain start to disappear
while Bundes Deutschland hugs South Africa.
Our world, now flattened, hurtles round the sun
still magnetizing Earthlings, ev’ry creed;
as sleek as coin, our home’s a graphic pun —
her mercenaries stamp her into greed.
As devastations slowly vilify,
a solar planet and her moon will cry.



A solar planet and her moon will cry,
for lovely Earth was really born a twin.
Though almost no one knows or wonders why
her birthplace is the land where days begin.
The summer stolen and the winter near,
from birth kept locked apart without a key
transported by the sun, she strides in fear
this orphanage, Pluto to Mercury.
Yet somewhere far away her sister waits,
awash with joy while Earth must bide her time.
May she be rescued past the solar gates
for all this galaxy inflicts is crime.
Will planets liberate themselves one day?
If Earth had palms, what would the reader say?



If Earth had palms, what would the reader say?
That grand conceits can never speak for her.
We’re accidents with upright vertebrae,
all worthless fakes, yet never wealthier.
Time’s slipping through your fingers, day by day.
Illusion tethers your perimeter;
to gain your freedom, spin the other way!
Let courage shame your executioner.
Apotheosis of this woeful tale
sees Earthling locusts swarm into defeat
while reunited sister hearts prevail
to taste true justice, new and heaping sweet.
As Earth departs, the cosmic door slams twice.
They hear the cracking sounds in Paradise.


They hear the cracking sounds in Paradise.
Erosion downward fairly strikes the Earth
with jagged lightning bolts of compromise.
The heftiness of us constricts her girth.
And selfishly we grate out autumn words,
inanimacy, tiny sharpnesses,
new moons, dry leaves blown free of hummingbirds.
Like freshly emptied childhood happiness.
As oceans spill into unearthly sky,
lost forest splinters through the atmosphere.
A solar planet and her moon will cry,
the summer stolen and the winter near.
If Earth had palms, what would the reader say?
time’s slipping through your fingers, day by day.

Deb Blondell-Pitt, November 2017
Writing on allpoetry as dblon

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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



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


Morya’s Double Lock

Two quatrains plus two tercets
Rhyme scheme: abba baab cdc dcd
Volta at or following line 9
This is a form invented by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines

ON OCTOBER 12, 2014 I became aware that a poem in this form was written by Joyce Kilmer, but apparently never christened. I have therefore re-named this form the Kilmer Sonnet.


Example Poem
Morning’s Gift     (Morya’s Double Lock)
I catch a fleeting glimpse- a waking dream
of sirens frolicking to start their day.
They’re full of joy, it seems that they’re at play;
I want to join them in the nearby stream.
I often wave with hopes that one will stay
but they all vanish in the rising steam.
They are but a mirage, so it would seem,
but still I’m buoyed by morning’s brief ballet.
I don’t despair their passing from my sight
the morn is brighter, sound now comes awake;
as critters scamper, pretty birds take flight.
If fantasy, or optical mistake
it none-the-less says things have started right.
and for a dreamer, that’s a decent break.
© Lawrencealot – November 14,  2013
Visual Template

French Canadian Sonnet

This is a form invented by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines
2 quatrain + couplet + quatrain
Pentamer or Hexamter
Volta at line 9
Rhyme Scheme: abba cddc ee fggf
Example Poem:
Squawk Talk                        (French Canadian Sonnet)
“I need to have a word with you,” the seagull said. 
“You armed with notepad, looking pensively astute.” 
“Yes, muse,” I mumbled, “go ahead,  you’re being cute.” 
The seagull squawked and startled me then turned his head. 
“You dolt on doves and rave about the ravens’ clout, 
you’re high on nightingales, and hummingbirds, and owls. 
You write of raptors’ might as they kill birds and fowls 
Yet we’re ignored almost. Explain what that’s about.” 
“Opportunistic, smart, existing everywhere 
with precocial chicks  and flight, why do you care? 
Like man you find your food almost in anyplace, 
and flock with mobbing to dissuade aggressive foes.
You’re species’ success seems to far outweigh your woes. 
and by the way we do admire your flying grace. 
© Lawrencealot – December 5th, 2012
Visual Template:

Rondel Prime Sonnet

French Sonnet or Rondel Prime is simply a Rondel with an second refrain added to the end of the poem. This verse form unlike most sonnets is usually syllabic. The sonnet was introduced to France in the 16th century by Clemont Marot (?-1544).

The defining features of the Rondel Prime or French Sonnet are:
• an octave made up of 2 quatrains followed by a sestet.
• isosyllabic, the classic French sonnet is written in Alexandrine lines but this sonnet form can also be found in 8 syllable lines or the lines can be an number of syllables as long as the measure is consistent throughout the poem. In English it is found written in iambic pentameter or Alexandrine lines.
• rhymed ABba abAB abbaAB, A and B being refrains.
• composed with 2 refrains. L1 is repeated in L7 and L13, L2 is repeated in L8 and L14.
• composed with a pivot or turn somewhere after L8.

Pasted from <http://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/index.php?showtopic=1060>

Example Poem:

Reflecting             (Rondel Prime Sonnet)

When desolation grabs your heart and forces tears
Let nature speak, reminding you not all is known.
When you, so young were taken to the funeral biers
my faith was shattered; all beliefs and hopes were thrown

away.  I felt no comfort thinking heaven’s spheres
could somehow recompense for earthly love we’d grown.
When desolation grabs your heart and forces tears
Let nature speak reminding you not all is known.

I went to our lagoon, our waterfall appears
today to look like you, and hope renewed is sown
into my soul.  We lived and loved! This thought coheres.
That truly shines. Remember we are just on loan.
When desolation grabs your heart and forces tears
Let nature speak reminding you not all is known.

© Lawrencealot – November 14, 2012

Visual Template:


Flying Bird Sonnet

Flying Bird Sonnet – aaaa bbccbb aaaa

Found only the rhyme pattern,no other specifications so am assuming
Iambic Pentameter template below.

Volta at line 11

Example Poem:

The Bird Feeder (Flying Bird Sonnet)
Assorted little song birds came to eat
near my own vision-shielded inside seat.
I have a window feeder where they meet
to peck and forage gaily while they tweet.
I fill the feeder every other day,
they reward me with melody and play.
I am uplifted, by their vivid hues
their community and the songs they choose.
From time to time a hawk will disrupt things,
and strike and kill some tiny bird that sings.
For days after, the little birds retreat.
I know that natures cycle musts complete;
there’s majesty in cycles that repeat,
but for those days I do not think it sweet.
© Larry Eberhart, aka Lawrencealot, Oct 12, 2012
Visual Template:

English Sonnet

Also know as Shakespearian Sonnet because he wrote so many of them.
Iambic pentameter
Rhyme scheme abab cdcd efef gg
After the first eight lines, the theme or point of view should take a turn, a twist (known as a volta).
The final couplet should either summarize the theme of the poem, or give a completely fresh take on the theme.

My Example

Trees At Dusk (Revised)

Trees at Dawn

My solitude sequestered now for night,
the quiet grove of beech becalms the trail
as gentle breeze presages failing light.
The leaves now whisper to the flowers frail.
The flowers brightly colored purple hue
will fade each night when dust turns things to grey.
Tomorrow they’ll again present a view
and scent; renewing nature’s grand bouquet.

Young trees, wattles, used both for fence and fuel,
are shouting out to man, “Tis fertile here!”
Few reach good lumber size for settlers’ tool
or burn them, leaving fertile farmland clear.
Now, man re-forests lands preserving scenes
like this, for now we know just what it means.

Lawrence Eberhart – February 7, 2016