I’ve long been fascinated by the sonnet. The awkward three stanza arrangement. The sing-songy feel but the absense of too strong a rhyme. I’ve written a few, and I’ve decided that I’m going to post some of them here.
Despite “sonnet” actually stemming from the term “sonetto,” meaning short song, sonnets are generally meant to be read as sentences, not especially in stanza form.
Anyway, this is sonnet #5.
From January first it’s hard to see
whatever lays before us, far or near.
Designing different fates, but what will be
will be despite resolving else this year.
The clouds that cloud the vision in my mind
cannot contain the sunlight rays that band
together, shining promises I find
give comfort as she holds me by the hand.
So while we wander round this endless rhyme,
and searching for a meaning to it all,
I find that I can face the plain of time
if she is there to catch me when I fall.
The plan to play an ever-growing part,
made easier when cradled by the heart.