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

Read more of her work:



Refrained Sonnet

The Refrained Sonnet- an Italian sonnet with a twist created by Lisa Morris writing on Allpoetry as Streambed.

This is a modified Italian Sonnet.

Metric: Iambic pentameter.
Rhyme Scheme: abba cbbc dbbd bb
Refrain: The first four syllables of line one, are repeated in lines 5 and 9.
The fourth syllable of the refrain establishes the b-rhyme.

Here is Lisa’s first example.

I Did Not Go

I did not go with thoughts of turning back;
regret is something I so little know,
though now green fields lay spread with loss’ snow,
I still take joy in leaving my boot-tracks.

I did not go because I hoped he’d change,
or more, to watch another flower blow;
I find new blooms all places that I sow;
I need not leave my footpath, or its range.

I did not go to only come again;
the stars above are hopeful in their glow
because I fled his murky undertow
and found myself, and God, and better men.
But if he calls for me in words sweet, low,
please tell him I’ve forgotten all, and grow.

My Example

The Electric Universe

If it is true from naught that something came
that opens up a metaphysics view,
but leaves us still without a single clue
from whence that something started just the same.

If it is true there once was a big pop,
that in a picosecond somehow grew
the stuff for zinc, and shale, and caribou
then must one wonder what might make it stop.

If it is true a steady state exists,
(and I’m inclined to think that that is true),
and gravity is not the only glue
that drives the order, which so far, persists
electric forces must receive their due;
and we’ve no way to guess when they’ll be through.

Lawrence Eberhart @ October, 2017

Here is a Visual Template

Sonnet Reversii

This sonnet form was invented by  Visalakshi , aka  Vive la V on Allpoetry
Here are her own requirements:
(1) Stanzaic : quatorzain, or octave and sestet.
(2) 10 syllables, except in the final couplet, which could vary: 10 or 11, but both L13 and L14 should be the same syllable length
(3) It is lexical where the last word of the first stanza becomes the first/ or beginning of the first word of the second stanza. This pattern continues to the end.
(4) The sonnet ends with the same word with which it begins, yes it is a requirement.
(5) Must rhyme. Rhyme pattern abab cdcd efef g’g (or gg) (near rhymes or exact rhymes)
(6) Volta in L9 or L 13
(7) For this form there is no metric requirement. It is optional.
Here is my example
We have What’s Needed     (Sonnet Reversii)
Within us all is something from without. 
Without a doubt there’s much I can adduce, 
adduce some things for you to think about. 
About our doubts we have a real excuse. 
Excuse me when I claim man’s not correct, 
correct in thinking gods must be required. 
Requiring dogma leaves a disconnect- 
a substitute for answers much desired. 
Desiring knowledge is, and must remain –
remain a trait to which we must attend. 
Attend to learning; try not to complain. 
Complaining sigh won’t help us to contend- 
contend with knowing, “How’d it all begin”. 
Begin assured, we’ve all we need within. 
© Lawrencealot – April 1, 2014
Visual Template


Chained Sonnet

Chained Sonnet
Structure, Metrical Requirement, Repetitive Requirement, Isosyllabic, Simple, Pivot Requirement
Each line begins with the last word of the preceding line.
To keep to iambic pentameter with this form, each line-ending word must be iambic and an even number of syllables to restart the next line keeping to meter.
Chained Sonnet is any sonnet that uses the poetic device of chaining
The defining features of the Chained sonnet is:
  • the verse is written in any sonnet form.
  • chained when the end word of the previous line is the first word of the next line.
  • flexible, at the poet’s discretion, to bring the sonnet full circle the first word of the sonnet is the last word of the sonnet.
My Thanks to Charles L. Weatheford and Judi Van Gorden for the fine resources above.
Example Poem
Gargoyles Aren’t Real – We Are     (Chained Sonnet)
Before we met I had become entranced,
Entranced by how my life had been enhanced.
Enhanced by lack of guile which so revealed,
Revealed a spirit not to be concealed.
Concealed not by an artifact deployed.
Deployed so verity is not destroyed.
Destroyed in falsity would be belief,
belief that truth would reap its own relief,
relief from wearing faces that dispute–
dispute your soul and render self abuse.
Abuse not one another with pretend.
Pretend creates facades you can’t defend.
The grinning gargoyles sat and watched above,
above our heads as we two fell in love.
© Lawrencealot – February 23, 2014
Visual Template

Nevada Sonnet

A Nevada Sonnet is merely a Fourteener with required, consistent internal rhyme occurring at the same syllable in each line.  The idea is to keep the Alexandrine meter from falling apart under its own weight.  This is all about making the sonnet a more cohesive unit.
Metrics: 14 lines written in Iambic heptameter
Rhyme Pattern:  Any sonnet pattern known to man, including blank verse.
Defining characteristic:  An internal rhyme pair in consistent position on each line.
Volta optional.
Example Poem:
I’ve Killed   (Nevada Sonnet)
An atheist, an agnostic, a Christian and a fool,
I’ve been deist, and quite caustic toward what I’ve  deemed fraud.
I’ve been a lout who wielded clout, a bureaucrat, a tool,
an entrepreneur, full of manure, and… some things to laud.
I’ve killed, and not in war.  For that my soul is sore.  The rest
I can amend or change my friend, but that’s indelible.
I killed what meant most to me.  His ghost I see- on rare nights.
Mercy killing, though culture willing, is not correctable.
I killed my dying pup.  Defying reason, conscience stings.
I was too small then to quell all life with one mighty blow.
I had to hit ,and cry and hit, hit again.  Of all things
I’ve ever done, that is the one that haunts.  Empathy so
flows to dogs that all my life, says my wife, I’ve felt more pain
for them then men.  That may be so until we meet again.
© Larry Eberhart, aka, Lawrencealot
Visual Template:

Betwixt Sonnet

Friday, October 12, 2012
5:28 PM

This form was invented for Sonnet 1327 by
Jose Rizal M. Reyes, of February 26, 2009
format: English (3 quad trains plus a couplet)
rhyming pattern: abba cbbc dbbd bb
IT was named the Betwixt Sonnet on November 13, 2012
by Lawrencealot until I hear otherwise from the ‘Fair youth”

Accidental Me               ( Betwixt Sonnet )
The chances of becoming you were small.
Your mother might have never said okay,
when first she met your father that one day.
Another beau might then have won the call.
The mating might have some how been postponed
or hurried by just seconds either way,
ejaculate could have been washed away,
or killed by spermicide your momma owned.
A simple cough that nudged the winning sperm
decided you’d be who you are today.
But certainly you are your dossier
so fill it up and never act infirm.
The game is being played out everyday
and as for me I find it fun to play.
Lawrencealot – November 13, 2012
Visual Template: