"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
Yep yep yeppers. The past two years, I wrote sonnets every Sunday of Napo. Since I love them so much, I decided I might as well take the opportunity to get real heckin' good at them. I prefer Shakespearean Sonnets, since I think the rhyme scheme and meter work best together, but you might see a few of the others around.
Cool, great. What's your sonnet-related goal?
Thirty Sonnets! Yes, thirty of 'em! I know they take a little more work than the short poems I've done the past three years, but I want to aim high. (And how else does one catch up to the bard anyways?)
Last edited by Ventomology on Tue Apr 06, 2021 5:24 am, edited 5 times in total.
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
I say a naughty word in this poem, so it's hidden. Really starting off strong lol.
Spoiler! :
Day 1: Warm-up
When morning beckons me to come awake, to breach the insulation of my bed, I stubbornly remain, a corpse in wake, and let my pillow swallow up my head.
When secular commitments force my hand, I don a cloak of heavy lethargy, and trudge through chores as one stumbles through sand, and burn my taskmasters in effigy.
By lunch, I am a reptile in the sun, just warming to the thought of perking up. I bask in dreams of marking my tasks ‘done’ and drain the lukewarm coffee from my cup.
I’m running, jumping, earning, getting rich. But god, momentum’s really such a bitch.
Last edited by Ventomology on Fri Apr 02, 2021 10:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
Oooh this one made me laugh (in a good way)!! I love how you're not letting a sonnet force you into stiff or "old-fashioned" sounding poetry, this one reads really fresh and modern which I love :) Also the image in the third stanza of being a reptile and "just warming to the thought of perking up" is so...absurd, almost, the way you phrase it? But it works so so well, I absolutely adore that stanza <3 And the final line is certainly an effective way to end things xD
When you're faced with something you don't understand, I think the most natural thing but also least interesting thing you can be is afraid.
Your spiny hair is merely child’s play; I grasp its roots to steal your heavy head. Your spiky skin, I flay and slice away- my knife the vicious conqueror you dread.
Your yellow veins pierce down into my gums, but pop beneath the grindstones of my teeth, exploding, like the sign a mine will come and on me all its golden fruits bequeath.
As though your torture hasn’t been enough, I boil you in a shining, silver pot. You’re tough, but I’ve no issue being rough with you, nor with the maltose that I bought.
And then, tomorrow, when I take my tea, your broken flesh will greet my tongue sweetly.
Spoiler! :
IT'S ABOUT A PINEAPPLE OKAY DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT. O _ O
Last edited by Ventomology on Sat Apr 03, 2021 3:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
Ooh I love your poem "Golden Fruit"!! At first when I was reading it, I sorta thought it was about the Greek myth where Perseus cuts off Medusa's head (maybe it was the "spiny hair" part?), but actually the fact that it's about a pineapple makes it so much funnier! I'll never look at cutting pineapples the same way again XD And the rhymes were awesome too; they all made sense and the poem flowed really well! Amazing job with this; keep writing!! ^-^
The tiny clock I bought four summers past onced ticked in timid rhythm by my bed. My open window pulled in words broadcast by passersby in arguments grotesque.
My neighbor’s footsteps murmured at my door. My roommates’ music burrowed through our walls. The HVAC unit echoed like a snore. The plastic piping groaned under its hauls.
My tiny clock will never tick again; its dying croak cast silence o’er my room, and its successor’s second hand abstains, preserving all my quiet, doom, and gloom.
I once was rich, but now I’m poor as mice; alone, I understand that noise was nice.
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
@Spearmint and @whatchamacallit, thanks so much for your lovely comments!!
Day 4: Rosy Memories
When spring break ends, the cherry trees all bloom, and cotton candy flowers fill the air. The red brick buildings shed their winter gloom, and turn bright pink beneath the spring sun's glare.
The grey duvet of clouds begins to fray, revealing skies of bright cerulean that fade to pink as we near end-of-day and douse the world in rosy shades again.
It commonly is said that college years will be remembered fondly evermore; nostalgic pink will color all the tears we shed as piles of homework left us sore.
The flora of my campus, luckily, have made rose-colored scenes reality.
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
When Loys approached you, sweet and pure Giselle, what features drew you into his facade? With what means did he coax you from your shell? What traits did he possess that left you awed?
Was it his face? Is he more fine than I? Was it the eloquence with which he spoke? Perhaps his graceful steps had caught your eye; you used to dance the moment you awoke.
Of course a duke was bound to catch your heart- your frail bones could not live a peasant’s life- but in his lie, he tore your life apart. At least, you will no longer live in strife.
Dance on, Giselle, though lie you in the dirt, and may you serve Duke Albrecht’s just desserts.
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
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