Category Archives: Romance

Your Fingers Wrote A Sonnet On My Thighs: a Tiara of Sonnets

By | | , , ,
Comments Off on Your Fingers Wrote A Sonnet On My Thighs: a Tiara of Sonnets

 

Your Fingers Wrote A Sonnet On My Thighs: a Tiara of Sonnets

I
Your fingers wrote a sonnet on my thighs,
the ink a map, my flesh an open book
to trace the constellations of the skies,
my every murmur babbled like a brook.
A poem now indelible on skin
a permanent reminder of your touch
for surely words could never be a sin
upon a tongue that loved you quite as much.

A rhythm, like a love song on a breeze
you murmured long and slow against my ear,
I oscillated between burn and freeze
as lips said every word I longed to hear.

I saw the yearning there within your eyes,
urging from lips the whisper of my sighs.

II
Urging from lips the whisper of my sighs,
your smile graced skin, along my flustered wrists
and there a pulse reacted in surprise,
my mind a race with every turn and twist,
and all the words that caused my head to spin
a dance of moonlight, ballet round the room
the poetry, concerto violin
my breaths a song into the quiet gloom.

It’s funny how a body can forget
to take a breath when all that passion burns
and appetite is stoked with tease and whets
the smallest taste, that causes me to yearn.

Your poetry was marvelously penned,
you signed your name with flourish at the end.

III
You signed your name with flourish at the end,
the curves reflective of my arching spine
my heart, an ache, just trying to transcend
beyond its cage of ribs, the stars aligned.
A cursive wave with heady passion wrought,
the wine of every line straight to my head
and to the winds was scattered steady thought,
with you the only word, all else had fled.

You wrote with calming hand amidst the quake,
my thighs atremble with each noun and verb,
and sighs soon followed in the very wake
a period, an end to all those words.

My senses had an onslaught to contend,
it made the heat of every kiss ascend.

IV
It made the heat of every kiss ascend,
as lips wrote poetry along my cheek
so giddy, heady, I could not contend
with skipping heartbeat, I became so weak,
and there within my breaths, each rhyme was caught
a net of syllables, the threads entwined
with each inhale and exhale, they just brought
me closer to the edge of where you’d signed.

I drowned within your eyes, the chocolate pools
an endless lake of possibilities
and sparkling, they shone like glowing jewels
and flirted with my sensibilities.

I floated on your words, a buoyant cloud,
you smiled, then read the syllables aloud.

V
You smiled, then read the syllables aloud,
the cadence of your sonnet like a song
and let the meter perfectly endow
my soul with wings, the lyrics were so strong.
Tracing the lines upon my shaking flesh
your fingers conducted a symphony
and I drank in the lines, each mark a fresh
reminder of our passion vividly.

And then I wrote a note upon your spine
declaring everything I felt, the tide
of oceans rushing, words that you were mine
and leaving love with nowhere left to hide.

Emotions riding high and fast and proud,
almost too much, more than should be allowed.

VI
Almost too much, more than should be allowed
a happiness that overflowed until
our bodies screamed each other’s names out loud
with poetry, our sonnets were fulfilled.
There with command, our words became enmeshed,
so intertwined there was no start or end
and nestled right beneath our heaving breasts
there beat one sound, a perfect lovers blend.

Our fingers laced, recited there the verse,
against my lips and taught me line by line
until I could from memory disperse
the nuance of the kisses’ very rhyme.

The night was lit by every single moan,
your poetry is writ within my bones.

VII
Your poetry is writ within my bones,
each word is captured here along my ribs,
an endless sonnet, reams becoming tomes
I am your book, and here you drag the nib.
I carry you with me, never alone
a love that only you and I can give
and in my heart, you’re always there at home
and here each day your sonnet I relive.

My skin will never be the same, I’m marked
with every constellation, stars and moon,
you read me and my love is triggered, sparked
by all those words that you’ll forever croon.

I thank heaven for you with each sunrise;
your fingers wrote a sonnet on my thighs.

 

Reprise:
Your fingers wrote a sonnet on my thighs,
a poem now indelible on skin
urging from lips the whisper of my sighs
and all the words that caused my head to spin.
You signed your name with flourish at the end,
a cursive wave with heady passion wrought
it made the heat of every kiss ascend
and there within my breaths, each rhyme was caught.

You smiled, then read the syllables aloud
tracing the lines upon my shaking flesh,
almost too much, more than should be allowed
there with command, our words became enmeshed.

Your poetry is writ within my bones,
I carry you with me, never alone.

Read more of her fine work at https://allpoetry.com/Virginia_Archer

 

 

 

Eternally Yours

By | | , ,
Comments Off on 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

Love at First Glance

By | | , , ,
Comments Off on Love at First Glance
Sonnet IYour eyes are liquid pools in which I sink
The centers dark, yet filled with so much light
Can’t look away, I dare not even blink
In case I miss the nuance of your sight.
The lashes seem too pretty for a man
But thickly cast a shadow, which I see
Just adds to intrigue, with their depth and span
Awakens something at the heart of me.But if you capture me with just a glance
It must be so with many others too,
I am unsure if I would stand a chance
Of challenging and interesting you.Desire it seems already now has grown
To greater depths than I have ever known.

Sonnet II

To greater depths than I have ever known
When all it took was just a single glance,
For in a rush my senses have all flown
Into a waltz, a swirling, twirling dance.
I do not know if I can cross this floor
That separates us now, but your eyes call
And I’m obliged to heed the certain roar
Be brave or let the curtain on us fall.

But more than eyes reached out to say hello
The timbre of your voice a pleasant thrill,
I stumble then, the words won’t seem to flow
My thoughts are lost, and gone against my will.

Oh damn, I know I really need a drink!
I cannot voice the wonder that I think.

Sonnet III

I cannot voice the wonder that I think
Your eyes have drawn me in and now I’m hooked.
The world around us goes away, just shrinks
To naught, I think, by a sweet piercing look!
Your mouth says words, I only see your lips
They are so curved, look firm and oh so warm,
You’re godlike from your hair down to your hips
My thoughts are scattered in your perfect storm.

I wonder why your look seemed so intense,
But still I am enraptured by your glow.
I think perhaps I am a little dense;
What’s there about me you should want to know?

Your hand is smooth, I bite away my moan
My thoughts a mess, a writhing small cyclone.

Sonnet IV

My thoughts a mess, a writhing small cyclone
My heart it stutter steps within my breast,
I pray you cannot hear its restless groan
And hope yours feels, within that manly chest.
Your eyes, still looking deeply into mine
(I wonder why I cannot look away?)
Bring shivers to my skin and up my spine
So totally I am within your sway.

My fingers want to touch, they need to say
Out loud how much your gaze has shaken me;
I must be mad! My nerves are in a fray,
I’m praying that there’s truth in what I see.

Throw caution to the wind? What’s the big deal?
I want to tell you how I truly feel.

Sonnet V

I want to tell you how I truly feel
How fired your eyes have made me from the start,
The all of you, that latent sex appeal
I struggle with the words I must impart.
I gather up my courage, take a breath
And hope I sound so confident and bold
Because if I don’t speak then I’ll be left
To always wonder, what if I had told.

Then suddenly the band begins to play
You bow to me and ask me for a dance,
We go out on the floor and closely sway
And once more words are swept with fine romance.

You stare at me, I’m totally engrossed
But words escape me when I need them most.

Sonnet VI

But words escape me when I need them most
I’m on cloud nine, no words are needed now.
He thinks, This woman, dancing with me close
Seems so much fun, but now I must allow
Her access to my deeper self as well
For texture, image, and demeanor too
Broadcast that words unsaid will soon compel
My heart and soul to take a deeper view.

She looks reluctant, timid and surprised,
Perhaps afraid her words won’t show their worth.
She speaks such volumes flowing from her eyes
I feel her voice will flow with care and mirth.

I’ll vouch that words will soon my soul anneal
Your eyes just mesmerize; my heart, once steel.

Sonnet VIIYour eyes just mesmerize; my heart, once steel
Has melted now; surprised how readily
A look can reach across and make me feel;
My strength erodes, heart beats unsteadily.
Your perfume rises up and takes my sense,
My hands around your waist, they tremble too
Against love’s call I have no strong defense
When all I seem to want is only you.We’ve hardly said a word and yet your eyes
Have said so much, without an uttered line.
My head it spins, you’re such a natural high
I need to find a way to make you mine.My breath deserts me when it matters most
Just falls apart and leaves me like a ghost.

Sonnet VIII

Just falls apart and leaves me like a ghost
Composure slips, but cannot help myself.
I need to get a grip or diagnose
Myself a fool; I feel like someone else!
You’re watching me as if you cannot wait
For me to utter something cute or smart,
But all I do is curse myself, berate
For staying oh so quiet from the start.

I breathe and finally my lips awake
I hear the words and cringe; oh what a mess!
“You dance so well”, is all that I can shake
Out from my mind, and now I feel distress.

You smile as if you see my silly fears
I am in constant blush, I know you hear.

Sonnet IXI am in constant blush, I know you hear
And wonder if you think that I am less
Than every woman you’ve known here and there;
That causes me to think and to assess.
The music stops but we stay standing close
As if we are afraid to break some spell
And caught up in a dream we softly pose
Like lovers, who cannot their passions quell.You ask me if I’d like to take a seat
And talk a while, and lead me from the floor
I nod and force some movement from my feet
And softly say “I’d like that, I am sure”.I shake my head, I know I need to cool
My mumblings, you must think me such a fool.

Sonnet X

My mumblings, you must think me such a fool
My mind replays- until you speak and say,
“I’m not so tongue-tied as a general rule,
But then again, I’ve never felt this way”.
I hesitate to interrupt this brief
Connection where our touching speaks instead
Of words, but still I find it a relief
That I want more than taking you to bed.

That raw desire could make guy’s words self-serving
Make compliments and praise be deemed a ploy,
And yet of all such praise you’re most deserving
And your non-verbal cues have brought me joy.

When I’m supposed to be precise and clear
I cannot string a line together dear.

Sonnet XII cannot string a line together dear
So hold my hand while clouds of phrases bounce
Across my mind before they disappear.
I stutter when you give your hair a flounce.
There’s nothing I can tell you that is new
For every man before has surely tried
To frame in words, the loveliness of you
With every phrase their muses could provide.Our fingers touching tells me it’s okay,
That words aren’t too important on this night.
I sense you’re feeling lost in this same way
At loss for words, but found in shared delight.Pretense would drown in eyes deep liquid pool;
Your smiling eyes, they make me so uncool.

Sonnet XII

Your smiling eyes, they make me so uncool,
But so infectious, I can’t help but smile,
I think I’m grinning like some silly fool
I haven’t felt this reckless in a while!
Your fingers grow a warmth in me that I
Cannot resist, I feel your moonlike pull
And like the tide I flow towards your sky
And somehow you just make me feel so full.

You whisper softly, leaning in to me
And touch a finger to my blushing cheek,
You say how much my eyes look like the sea
And trace of finger makes me feel so weak.

I stammer “thank you”, so caught on your hook
Your eyes so warm, I almost cannot look.
 

Sonnet XIIIYour eyes so warm, I almost cannot look
The passions well and make me feel so small,
How can I breathe, when all the air you took?
How fast, how fast, so easily I fall!
Your beauty is a wonder I should hold
I’ve never been so taken with one glance!
And I’ll presume to be so very bold
And say that this is love, I’m in a trance!All words forgot, your lips are claiming mine
And then I know the all of what I feel.
You bubble to my head like mellow wine
This kiss is all we need to seal the deal.Our love it babbles like a raging brook,
Through love, we read each other like a book.

Sonnet XIV

Through love, we read each other like a book
My heart is bared to you, I read your eyes
And there, with such intensity of look
Is everything I need, right there it lies.
I ask if I can see you once again
But know I never want to be without,
And sigh with happiness when you exclaim
The “yes” that erases my every doubt.

We kiss once more, your lips just speak to me
And hand in hand we leave our meeting place,
And I am still in awe, but feel so free
Enraptured by the wonder of your face.

I am amazed how two hearts can be linked;
Your eyes are liquid pools in which I sink.

Sonnet XV

Your eyes are liquid pools in which I sink
To greater depths than I have ever known,
I cannot voice the wonder that I think
My thoughts a mess, a writhing small cyclone.
I want to tell you how I truly feel
But words escape me when I need them most,
Your eyes just mesmerize; my heart, once steel
Just falls apart and leaves me like a ghost.

I am in constant blush, I know you hear
My mumblings, you must think me such a fool.
I cannot string a line together dear
Your smiling eyes, they make me so uncool.

Your eyes so warm, I almost cannot look
Through love, we read each other like a book.

Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Princess (Sensual)

By | | , ,
Comments Off on Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Princess (Sensual)
I stood upon the ancient parapet,
yes, recklessly atop the castle walls
the stone was slick, and gray and still so wet
from rain that night had brought with heavy fall.
My room below was safe, and dry and pink;
a letter waited there on filmy bed;
high, high upon the wall I went to think
to clear the sighs and tangles from my head.
The letter had a seal that made me cold,
it glittered in the window’s dawny light;
I knew the ink inside would be black, bold;
unopened, it had lay there all the night.
I walked the parapet in ache and doubt;
my gown was caught by wind and blown about.
My gown was caught by wind and blown about;
I wobbled then, and grasped a jutting wall,
but let it go; yes, heedlessly I’d flout
caution’s bounds and tempt a deadly fall;
I didn’t care; my stomach thrilled inside
to see how high, how very high I stood;
I lifted chin, and arms I opened wide
and played at bird; I thought the feeling good.
I frolicked then, atop the windy stone
and felt the wind press right against my eyes;
I stumbled back to roof, too fiercely blown
but parapet I climbed again; this rise
did not concern me with its heady threat;
I gave great thought to where each foot was set.
I gave great thought to where each foot was set;
another hour I spent there in the sun,
until the stone showed not a bit of wet
and I was tired of airy, windy fun.
Then I sought out my room and letter there,
which waited still; I broke the royal seal
and thick black words then rose and grimly stared
quite heedless of the way they made me feel.
My father wrote; he ordered me away
to meet him in great castle in the east.
A bridegroom waited, in his fine array,
a mighty match was made, and mighty feast.
I packed my trunks, and trousseau and my flute,
I wore my beaded shoes along my route.
I wore my beaded shoes along my route,
they made me feel that all would turn out well;
but then the man could be a wicked brute;
we’d never met, I had no way to tell.
My father made me travel in disguise;
in abbot’s clothes I traveled with the priests,
and in this way he kept me from men’s eyes-
so few I’d seen! (They told me men were beasts.)
We traveled days; a man then joined our train;
I saw his face! I loved! My heart was hot!
I watched him through the window and in pain;
desire stirred; but this I’d never sought.
I pulled my clothes away from legs within;
the sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin.
The sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin;
the man was walking by my carriage door;
I loved the beard upon his very chin,
I felt no woman ever loved before!
We stopped the night in town with so few rooms,
and host, unknowing, bunked the man with me!
I called him to my bed, my longing womb
then told me there was something more to see…
He thought me man, so I pulled off my clothes
and offered then my troth to plight and give
or he should leave! He said, “My passion shows!
Yes! Give me ring and share the life I live!”
He taught me joy throughout that magic night!
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight.
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight,
we didn’t sleep at all, and glared at dawn;
and though we saw the coming of the light
we didn’t want love’s night to be all gone
so we ignored the stirring of the place
and while I sat atop my thrilling steed
the door swung open, and an old man’s face
showed shock and horror; horror yes indeed!
For Holy Abbot was not even man!
And more than that, he was a princess, high!
And more than that (he couldn’t understand!)
the princess was in bed! Her royal thighs!
Astonished, he went out the door again.
A man called Jove knew all my secret sin.
A man called Jove knew all my secret sin,
he was a knight who served my father well;
my troth was plighted, but I knew just then
the worth of that- for Jove of course would tell.
But what of journey? And the waiting groom?
It was too late- I loved- it was too late.
Unless of course, they sent my love to tomb;
my father’s anger might not hesitate.
The man I loved was high born and well made,
his name was Samuel; pleasant was his wit;
a rugged swordsman, skilled with many blades-
yes, surely surely, they’d see he was fit.
I pulled him near, and held him very tight;
the past’s black chains seemed paper in the light.
The past’s black chains seemed paper in the light;
a wedding now seemed black and full of fear
unless to he I bound with in the night;
yes, bound with well and truly, charming dear!
And still we moved through hills and moors and streams,
onward, onward, to reach my father’s halls;
but half the time I was immersed in dreams
of Samuel’s whispers and his passion calls.
I gave up costume, and let Samuel ride
in royal carriage, cuddled up to me,
but sometimes we would walk at carriage side
along stone paths, beneath the spreading trees.
I was so glad, so glad, he was my own;
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone.
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone;
he laughed and kissed, because my eyes were bright,
the knights were angry when we were alone
and kept us from each other in the night.
Yes, no one knew how Father might respond
and if this other marriage must be had,
the less that I was left to cling and bond
the less that I would think the marriage bad.
But all shook heads; no virgin now was I!
No holy prize! No lamb to shear with pride!
If diplomatic favors I would buy
far fewer now would buy this unchaste bride.
My father might have much to say to me!
The wind picked up and roared most dismally.
The wind picked up and roared most dismally,
we stayed the night with Duke in castle keep;
I tossed and turned, a restless, churning sea;
within the mighty bed I couldn’t sleep.
I called my maid and made her rub my back,
but still I sighed, and listened to the wind,
and to the castle’s groan and heave and crack;
the old rooms talked and felt like gentle friend.
At last I sent Suzanne back to her bed
and leaned my face against the window glass,
so wishing, wishing, wishing I was wed
and all the worry was already past.
While sitting in the window all alone,
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone.
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone,
and I got up, and pulled on velvet cloak,
and went right then to seek what was my own,
I found his room, himself, his kiss, his stroke…
Once more the night was spent as nights should be
and we were laughing in the candlelight.
I said, “You know you’re risking death for me…
Are you afraid it might not turn out right?”
He said, “My time with you is worth the rest;
if I should die, I die a man well loved,
and loved by you, I’d die a man well blessed;
I’ve had the joys they say they have above.”
He said, “Come stand and turn, and let me see.”
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me.
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me,
and he delighted in my flesh and reached
to graze the hips then turning, turning free
before he seized, and huskily, beseeched.
I gave him what he wished and loving, craved,
and softly kissed his chest, and neck and cheeks;
I paused to pray to God he would be saved-
that we would have the favor honor seeks.
I went back to my rooms through quiet halls
the guards, asleep, then never moved or stirred.
With dawn, I feared my father’s love was small
though in the past he’d praised my every word.
But then he might roar “Death!” while Samuel fell…
I knew my secret I would have to tell.
I knew my secret I would have to tell;
and we were almost there! Oh what a thing!
And yet what if instead, I had done “well”
and never told my love or traded rings,
and married other man while loving him?
Yes, surely that is sinning just as much
as telling truth. Perhaps it is more prim
to wait for priest before the wedded touch,
but if I had, no chance would then remain;
my only chance of love was love embraced.
But we were there! Would darling man be slain?
I entered court and saw my father’s face!
I trembled with a fear I couldn’t quell!
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!
The bridegroom waited there, and royal priest.
My father rose and looked at Samuel well.
A perfect silence reigned- all movement ceased.
My father called my name and made me stand;
he said, “So this man pleases you, my dear?”
I said, “My heart so loves his fine command
I couldn’t bear a life without him near.”
My father said, “We’ve sought a tie for years
with Samuel’s house. The wedding is tonight.
You’ve done a thing that bribes and war and tears
could never bring to terms or friendly light.
My daughter, you have done a royal thing
with little hands, and sweetly traded rings.
I stood upon the ancient parapet,
my gown was caught by wind and blown about,
I gave great thought to where each foot was set,
I wore my beaded shoes along my route.
The sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin;
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight.
a man called Jove knew all my secret sin,
the past’s black chains seemed paper in the light.
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone,
the wind picked up and roared most dismally;
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone,
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me;
I knew my secret I would have to tell;
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!

Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Fairy

By | | , ,
Comments Off on Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Fairy



The fairy princess chose him for a king;
she found him walking through a crowded wood,
and followed him on iridescent wing;
her heart then singing fairy music good.
He was not young, but fairies see the soul
his mind was diamond, heart was rainbowed light;
she saw where others were a mass of coal
this man, this one, was brilliant beacon bright.
She flitted then, from branch to branch, concealed
and judged the man on way and secret thought;
she saw in him some wicked ways revealed,
but basked in beauty deep within him, caught.
She feared to love; though loving would be just;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust.

The man was fragile, born of clay and dust,
a short-lived mortal, hardly just a breath.
Though heart toward love was wildly, deeply thrust
she knew her love would only end in death.
A fairy prince would make a better king;
a thousand years would pass like seven days,
but love a man? How sharp would be the sting
when breath was gone; how short man’s spirit stays!
She shuddered then, with thought of all the loss
and yet his soul was lovelier than theirs;
no fairy prince had half his rainbow’s gloss
no fairy prince had such a light to share.
No, it was he who must and should be king.
Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring.

Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring,
what sweet delight his reign would mean to her;
if he, a man, were made the fairy king,
so many hearts would sing with joy and stir;
the fairy babes would each bask in his light,
and grow so strong, and brighter for his thought;
and in the dances on the moony nights
the songs would glitter with the notes he taught;
yes, all the world of fairies would rejoice
if broad-souled man would take the fairy crown;
the woods were filled by glory of his voice;
in waves of music sweetly she would drown.
And yet though love rose thrilling and robust,
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.

Her fairy heart knew better than to trust;
she knew that men are fickle, and unkind,
and yet she felt despite it all she must
reveal herself and all her fairy mind.
She sang a harmony to all his song
and when he looked, she landed at his feet,
then made herself much taller, then and strong
’til eye to eye the two of them should meet.
He saw her wings, and knew just what she was;
remembering the stories as a child;
his old heart quailed, and he stepped back because
her beauty’s force was absolutely wild.
He took her hand, but didn’t tell the truth;
he sought through her the secret rose of youth.

He sought through her the secret rose of youth;
the legends told the fairies had this thing;
he didn’t tell the fairy all the truth
because he feared just what the truth would bring.
Yet he was old, his life was nearly spent
and if this rose was in his hands indeed,
the years would fall, and time’s hold would be rent,
while he bloomed freshly as a springing seed.
He wanted this; he hungered for his strength.
What joy to stand in passion’s door again!
The fairy heard his thoughts and all their length,
and knew just what to offer to him then.
“Come with me now, your troubles will be slain;
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain.”

“Some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain,
and I have one that counteracts the years;
why should you age, when sweet one, you could reign,
and never feel another lonely tear?
Come with me now, and take my fairy hand,
and I will give you kingdoms, and my love.
My heart is yours to have and to command,
and you will find me docile as a dove.”
She drew up then; he yearned for her embrace;
her form was lush and promised much delight;
she saw herself reflected in his face
and subtle change in vibrant rainbow light.
He wanted her, as well as rose of youth;
she sought in him an echo of her truth.

She sought in him an echo of her truth;
a fairy’s soul is always changing form;
a fairy heart retains the joy of youth,
and adds to it a passion ever warm;
a fairy sees itself in all its works;
the flowers bloomed, the stars well-shined at night,
no fairy child ever hides or shirks
because their jobs are always a delight.
She loved this man; he loved her love so well,
that they were married, in a fairy ring;
and all the fairies rang the flower bells,
and human man was crowned the fairy king.
So king and queen began their magic reign;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.

She lay with him and all his griefs were slain,
such rapture there beneath her fairy wings!
Their jasper cave was lovely in the rain,
and they had joys that only love can bring.
He felt his age when stroking her smooth skin;
her strength was such he wished his own was more;
she saw these thoughts while in his arms again,
and kissed his cheek, then flew through jasper door.
Her heard her land in gravel late at night,
and in her arms she bore a glowing bloom;
it filled the cave with gentle crimson light,
and glorified the shining jasper room.
She came to him as if she’d lie and rest,
he held her close; she placed rose in his breast.

He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
and as he slept, the years each fell away.
The rose’s scent perfumed the cave and blessed;
the rose’s bloom unworked cruel time’s decay.
When morning came; he rose a man of power,
his body twenty, or perhaps eighteen;
and how he blessed the magic of the flower
that left his skin so perfect, smooth and clean.
The fairy laughed to see the joy he took,
and held him then, to share in his heart’s bliss;
she stood far back and took another look,
and offered him another fairy kiss.
She looked, and yet her eyes were not quite dry;
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die.

His heart grew young, and yet he still could die,
his mortal form was still a frightening thought.
She loved him much, and couldn’t help but cry
because with danger his dear life was fraught.
The fairies all took counsel time to time,
and worried over his mortality,
he stood there, glowing, in his vibrant prime
but age and death would never let that be.
There was one way to give him lasting life,
too terrible to even think about;
the magic stripped from fairy wedded wife
would give him wings, while she would go without.
She lie awake against his human breast,
her fairy heart would never give her rest.

Her fairy heart would never give her rest,
she watched him walk, while flying, she danced air;
she searched old books for answers in her quest
to find a way to bring him wings to wear.
What life he’d find! What joys he’d know as king!
What beauties would his bright soul then unfold?
What good was life if his death it would bring?
What good was love if shortly dead and cold?
She loved him so; she longed to give him all,
but what of her? And how would she exist?
Her fairy heart considered such a fall,
and what it cost to love the man she kissed.
She wept, he’d never felt the gentle sky;
she longed for day that he could rise and fly.

She longed for day that he could rise and fly;
at last her heart was broken with his plight;
3,000 years she’d lived, but not known why;
but now she lived in glory of his light.
It wasn’t right that one so beautiful
should go unwinged, and have the shortest life
while she, a fairy with the eras full
should fly, uncaring, though she was his wife.
The rose would only work a single time;
she had to act to give him many years,
for why should he, a creature so sublime
feel rough, raw age, or know a dying fear?
She loved him true; and after final soar,
her fairy dust she stripped from very core.


Her fairy dust she stripped from very core;
her light went out, her wings both dried and snapped,
she pulled and pulled until there was no more,
then carried dust to where her husband napped.
She knelt beside him while her tears fell thick,
and rubbed the dust into his human skin,
she paused, head spinning, dizzy now and sick
but forced herself to rub him down again.
The dust sank in through muscle and his bone,
he woke while she was kneading his broad back;
he said, “Oh no! Oh no! This was your own!”
He looked at her, and saw her magic’s lack.
He felt his blood begin a heady roar;
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

He spread his wings and loved her then no more;
her magic gone, she was a human queen;
the fairy king had loved her fairy core,
he’d loved her for her wings and fairy sheen,
and when she gave it all for love of him,
his love failed fast; without her flitting wings
and popping off to chase her varied whims,
her way was not a pleasure to the king.
She loved him well, as fairy and as girl,
her heart was his; they reined and ruled, and yet,
she’d once had wings; she’d hide behind her curls
and weep for flights that she could not forget.
She loved the king far more than light or flight
his glory then became her heart’s delight.

The fairy princess chose him for a king;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust;
her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring;
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.
He sought through her the secret rose of youth
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain;
she sought in him an echo of her truth;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.
He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die;
her fairy heart would never give her rest
she longed for day that he could rise and fly;
her fairy dust she stripped from very core
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

© Streambed. All rights reserved, 10 hours ago

C  
Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Fairy

The fairy princess chose him for a king;
she found him walking through a crowded wood,
and followed him on iridescent wing;
her heart then singing fairy music good.
He was not young, but fairies see the soul
his mind was diamond, heart was rainbowed light;
she saw where others were a mass of coal
this man, this one, was brilliant beacon bright.
She flitted then, from branch to branch, concealed
and judged the man on way and secret thought;
she saw in him some wicked ways revealed,
but basked in beauty deep within him, caught.
She feared to love; though loving would be just;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust.

The man was fragile, born of clay and dust,
a short-lived mortal, hardly just a breath.
Though heart toward love was wildly, deeply thrust
she knew her love would only end in death.
A fairy prince would make a better king;
a thousand years would pass like seven days,
but love a man? How sharp would be the sting
when breath was gone; how short man’s spirit stays!
She shuddered then, with thought of all the loss
and yet his soul was lovelier than theirs;
no fairy prince had half his rainbow’s gloss
no fairy prince had such a light to share.
No, it was he who must and should be king.
Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring.

Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring,
what sweet delight his reign would mean to her;
if he, a man, were made the fairy king,
so many hearts would sing with joy and stir;
the fairy babes would each bask in his light,
and grow so strong, and brighter for his thought;
and in the dances on the moony nights
the songs would glitter with the notes he taught;
yes, all the world of fairies would rejoice
if broad-souled man would take the fairy crown;
the woods were filled by glory of his voice;
in waves of music sweetly she would drown.
And yet though love rose thrilling and robust,
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.

Her fairy heart knew better than to trust;
she knew that men are fickle, and unkind,
and yet she felt despite it all she must
reveal herself and all her fairy mind.
She sang a harmony to all his song
and when he looked, she landed at his feet,
then made herself much taller, then and strong
’til eye to eye the two of them should meet.
He saw her wings, and knew just what she was;
remembering the stories as a child;
his old heart quailed, and he stepped back because
her beauty’s force was absolutely wild.
He took her hand, but didn’t tell the truth;
he sought through her the secret rose of youth.

He sought through her the secret rose of youth;
the legends told the fairies had this thing;
he didn’t tell the fairy all the truth
because he feared just what the truth would bring.
Yet he was old, his life was nearly spent
and if this rose was in his hands indeed,
the years would fall, and time’s hold would be rent,
while he bloomed freshly as a springing seed.
He wanted this; he hungered for his strength.
What joy to stand in passion’s door again!
The fairy heard his thoughts and all their length,
and knew just what to offer to him then.
“Come with me now, your troubles will be slain;
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain.”

“Some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain,
and I have one that counteracts the years;
why should you age, when sweet one, you could reign,
and never feel another lonely tear?
Come with me now, and take my fairy hand,
and I will give you kingdoms, and my love.
My heart is yours to have and to command,
and you will find me docile as a dove.”
She drew up then; he yearned for her embrace;
her form was lush and promised much delight;
she saw herself reflected in his face
and subtle change in vibrant rainbow light.
He wanted her, as well as rose of youth;
she sought in him an echo of her truth.

She sought in him an echo of her truth;
a fairy’s soul is always changing form;
a fairy heart retains the joy of youth,
and adds to it a passion ever warm;
a fairy sees itself in all its works;
the flowers bloomed, the stars well-shined at night,
no fairy child ever hides or shirks
because their jobs are always a delight.
She loved this man; he loved her love so well,
that they were married, in a fairy ring;
and all the fairies rang the flower bells,
and human man was crowned the fairy king.
So king and queen began their magic reign;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.

She lay with him and all his griefs were slain,
such rapture there beneath her fairy wings!
Their jasper cave was lovely in the rain,
and they had joys that only love can bring.
He felt his age when stroking her smooth skin;
her strength was such he wished his own was more;
she saw these thoughts while in his arms again,
and kissed his cheek, then flew through jasper door.
Her heard her land in gravel late at night,
and in her arms she bore a glowing bloom;
it filled the cave with gentle crimson light,
and glorified the shining jasper room.
She came to him as if she’d lie and rest,
he held her close; she placed rose in his breast.

He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
and as he slept, the years each fell away.
The rose’s scent perfumed the cave and blessed;
the rose’s bloom unworked cruel time’s decay.
When morning came; he rose a man of power,
his body twenty, or perhaps eighteen;
and how he blessed the magic of the flower
that left his skin so perfect, smooth and clean.
The fairy laughed to see the joy he took,
and held him then, to share in his heart’s bliss;
she stood far back and took another look,
and offered him another fairy kiss.
She looked, and yet her eyes were not quite dry;
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die.

His heart grew young, and yet he still could die,
his mortal form was still a frightening thought.
She loved him much, and couldn’t help but cry
because with danger his dear life was fraught.
The fairies all took counsel time to time,
and worried over his mortality,
he stood there, glowing, in his vibrant prime
but age and death would never let that be.
There was one way to give him lasting life,
too terrible to even think about;
the magic stripped from fairy wedded wife
would give him wings, while she would go without.
She lie awake against his human breast,
her fairy heart would never give her rest.

Her fairy heart would never give her rest,
she watched him walk, while flying, she danced air;
she searched old books for answers in her quest
to find a way to bring him wings to wear.
What life he’d find! What joys he’d know as king!
What beauties would his bright soul then unfold?
What good was life if his death it would bring?
What good was love if shortly dead and cold?
She loved him so; she longed to give him all,
but what of her? And how would she exist?
Her fairy heart considered such a fall,
and what it cost to love the man she kissed.
She wept, he’d never felt the gentle sky;
she longed for day that he could rise and fly.

She longed for day that he could rise and fly;
at last her heart was broken with his plight;
3,000 years she’d lived, but not known why;
but now she lived in glory of his light.
It wasn’t right that one so beautiful
should go unwinged, and have the shortest life
while she, a fairy with the eras full
should fly, uncaring, though she was his wife.
The rose would only work a single time;
she had to act to give him many years,
for why should he, a creature so sublime
feel rough, raw age, or know a dying fear?
She loved him true; and after final soar,
her fairy dust she stripped from very core.


Her fairy dust she stripped from very core;
her light went out, her wings both dried and snapped,
she pulled and pulled until there was no more,
then carried dust to where her husband napped.
She knelt beside him while her tears fell thick,
and rubbed the dust into his human skin,
she paused, head spinning, dizzy now and sick
but forced herself to rub him down again.
The dust sank in through muscle and his bone,
he woke while she was kneading his broad back;
he said, “Oh no! Oh no! This was your own!”
He looked at her, and saw her magic’s lack.
He felt his blood begin a heady roar;
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

He spread his wings and loved her then no more;
her magic gone, she was a human queen;
the fairy king had loved her fairy core,
he’d loved her for her wings and fairy sheen,
and when she gave it all for love of him,
his love failed fast; without her flitting wings
and popping off to chase her varied whims,
her way was not a pleasure to the king.
She loved him well, as fairy and as girl,
her heart was his; they reined and ruled, and yet,
she’d once had wings; she’d hide behind her curls
and weep for flights that she could not forget.
She loved the king far more than light or flight
his glory then became her heart’s delight.

The fairy princess chose him for a king;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust;
her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring;
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.
He sought through her the secret rose of youth
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain;
she sought in him an echo of her truth;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.
He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die;
her fairy heart would never give her rest
she longed for day that he could rise and fly;
her fairy dust she stripped from very core
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

© Streambed.  Feb. 2014

This is the most beautiful such composition I have ever read.  _Larry Eberhart

Balanced Sonnet

By | | ,
Comments Off on Balanced Sonnet
Stanzaic:             2 septets (seven-line stanzas)
Meter:                  Iambic pentameter
Volta                    Not specified.
Rhyme Scheme:  ababcbc ededfef
Primary Sources –
Balanced sonnet/California rhyme scheme
Barbara Dilworth has devised a form she calls the balanced sonnet, or the California rhyming scheme. The rhyming scheme is ababcbc dedefef. This splits the 14 lines up into two 7-line sections, each with the same rhyming scheme. A purist would say that … this wasn’t a proper sonnet, because it doesn’t have the obligatory 8/6 split.
My thanks to Bob Newman at Volecentral for this information, his site is a wonderful resource.
  • The Balanced Sonnet is noted as not a sonnet because it doesn’t use the octave-sestet sonnet pattern but then technically neither does theShakespearean sonnet. So as long as the poem sings in 14 lines with a pivot or turn somewhere within, I think one could call it a sonnet. This form was created by Barbara Dilworth.The Balanced Sonnet is:
rhymed, rhyme scheme ababcbc dedefdf.
  • no placement of pivot prescribed.
My thanks to Judi Van Gorder at Poetry Magnus, another wonderful resource.
 
Example Poem
 
Not to Be Relinquished     (Balanced Sonnet)
Since every guy was asking you to dance,
including jocks and handsome wealthy guys,
I never thought that I would stand a chance
to hold you close and gaze into your eyes.
Your image captivates me through the day
and often I may think of you with sighs,
remembering you face and gentle sway.
You are so kind to everyone you meet
that peacefulness is anywhere you stand.
Compelled, I wandered near your vacant seat;
as you approached I just held out my hand
and mumbled “Hi!”, before the last note struck;
Your acquiescence made the day complete,
You stayed with me, those guys were out of luck.
© Lawrencealot – November 7, 2013
 
Visual Template
 
 

Teddybard Sonnet

By | | ,
Comments Off on Teddybard Sonnet

This is a sonnet form invented by Teddybard of Allpoetry.

It is identified by the Rhyme Pattern: aaaabbccddeeff

Normal sonnet attributes apply.

Example Poem

Not to be Relinquished

Since every guy asked you to dance
I never thought I’d have a chance
to even profit from your glance,
much less to entertain romance.
I thought about you every day
your face, your hair, your gentle sway,
your kind response to all you’d meet,
your gentle voice which sounds.so sweet.

I’d wandered near your vacant chair
and when your partner brought you there
I mumbled “Hi!” held out my hand
I hadn’t waited for the band.

In your warm arms I felt befriended.
We danced on when music ended.

© Lawrencealot – October 1, 2013

Visual Template This is shown for Iambic Tetrameter

Sapphic Ode Sonnet

By | | , , ,
Comments Off on Sapphic Ode Sonnet
NOTE: This is admittedly and intentionally not the formal Sapphic Verse.
When I found this construct I did not capture the creator’s name, and now that I am making the forms public, I would very much like to provide attribution.  If anyone can help it will be added with appreciation.

3 quatrains composed of 3 lines of iambic  tetrameter
and a 4th line of iambic dimeter,
closing couplet in iambic tetrameter
Rhyme Scheme: abab cdcd efef gg

Example Poem:

Seasoned Harvest (Sapphic Ode Sonnet)

We gamboled through the summer hay-
alfalfa growing green and tall
enough to hide in anyway,
when we were small.

I had no sibling, nor did she
and neighbors weren’t  that near those days.
We’d languor in the apple tree
those summer days.

She grew up lithe and comely yet
while I was craggy faced and shy
through school she did not once forget
I was her guy.

When I asked she did not demure;
“Me, marry you?”she said, “Why sure.”

© Lawrencealot – Oct. 18, 2012



Visual Template:



Melanesian Sonnet

By | | , ,
Comments Off on Melanesian Sonnet

Octet + Sestet
Generally Iambic Petameter
Volta at or following line 9
Rhyme scheme:  aabaaaba aababb
This is a form invented by Jose Rizal M. Reyes of the Philippines

JOSE wrote another which he intended to name Melanesian Wave which is only
different in presentation being three quatrains and a couplet.  It seems to me that
poets have always had the freedom to present their sonnets as the muse dictated they should.  I am not posting it therefore as a separate sonnet form.

Example Poem:

A Simple Flash!  (Melanesian Sonnet)

She thinks perhaps I dream of her at night
and miss her when she’s somewhere out of sight.
She believes that some how I deserve respect
and am her thoughtful brave and charming knight.
She thinks it’s fun to hike or fly a kite,
or read a poem and talk by candle light.
She speaks her mind, and shares her thoughts unchecked;
objections are not taken as a sleight.

Her figure’s full, her teases do incite;
She thinks her cleavage flashed just might excite
and grins and smiles when I become erect,
my validation proving she was right.
She thinks she can have sex and my respect.
I know my lady surely is correct.

© Lawrencealot – October 30, 2012
This was written a parody of a Dalaney Poem

Visual Template:

Fourteener

By | | , ,
Comments Off on Fourteener

Meter: Iambic heptameter
Rhyme Scheme: That of any other sonnet.
Volta, That of selected sonnet form.

A Fourteener is used by some as an alternate term for sonnet.
However, poets have also used the term to mean a sonnet in iambic heptameter:
fourteen lines, each with seven iambs (fourteen syllables).
You can use the rhyme scheme of any sonnet form you choose.
The problem with the fourteener is that you could just as easily break each
line into one line of iambic tetrameter (four iambs), followed by a line of iambic trimeter (three iambs). At that point, you’re actually writing in common meter, or ballad meter.
No longer is the poem slow and introspective: it becomes a jaunty, sing-song little number.
Once we get beyond the Alexandrine ( Iambic hexamter), the lines tend to crumble into smaller sections under their own weight.
Here are some well known songs in ballad meter.

“Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.”

“There is a house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun,
it’s been the ru[in] of many [a poor] boy, and God I know I’m one.”

“I’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony,
I’d like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company.”

This shouldn’t dissuade you from trying your hand at the Fourteener form,
but you should work to justify the length of the lines by filling them with imagery and beautiful figurative language.

Example poem:

The Highwayman (Fourteener)

When Mabel saw the highwayman, a dandy to be sure,
(his manicure was evident, his lips were freshly glossed,
his brocade vest was all bedecked with silver’s bright allure),
she wanted to be taken by this man at any cost.

“Please stop this carriage! Don’t resist!”she told her able crew.
His ribbons and his earrings were as fine as were her own.
Her bosom swelled, her breath came faster with the closer view.
She wanted naught today but this highwayman alone.

“My dearest lady, please step down. Your loveliness is such
I’ll leave the lock-box to my crew- and you shall be my guest.
Your slender waist and flowing hair excites as does your chest.
My crew seeks other treasure but it’s you I wish to touch.”

The highway man in all this time has never fired a gun.
The ladies tell their drivers, “You are not to fight or run. ”

© Lawrencealot – May 14, 2013

Note: This Fourteener is penned in the style of a Tennyson-Turner Sonnet