I love you, my Darling, like a turnip,
buried ‘neath the loamy soil, loves its home,
to force those spiny roots so with a grip
does plant in place and thus refuse to roam.
Spade me not, my Own, don’t disturb the weeds,
this tap runs deep and on its course unswerves
to wrap about thine heart it doth proceed
to hold and love you with exalted verve!
Unhoed, this great attachment holds the soil
to fertilize your joy with stewed delight,
let not this soup turn thoughts to some embroil,
take stock and stir as my be-tubered knight
To love me more and radish all my doubt
so water here our ground to save from drought.
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
My mother’s grave is covered now in gold
and yellows mums; I never visit there.
The wind in winter blows too rough and cold;
I lack the strength to stand the frigid air
against my face; my hands would only ache.
Sucking in the chill my lungs burn dry,
I’d gasp and clutch a tree against the break-
neck speed of gales and squalls that singe my eye.
No, I remain deep in the south where warm,
the sun can only do me good, and think
of how the snow drifts round the stone in storms;
where frozen mums are waiting roses pink
to kiss the face of God when time is done
and scatter blossoms all about in sun.
Breaking with the strictest rules of the English Sonnet, I have chosen the following aberrations:
The first eight lines are broken, not into two quatrains, but into syntactical breaks of five and three. This choice is made to propel the poem forward with a sense of urgency and to support the imbalance of the voice.
Also, line seven is only 9 syllables, which echoes the meaning of the line — stolen breath.
Lastly, line nine, which serves as my turn (volta) is clearly not in iambic form, which puts into question the choice made to not visit. Because the subject matter of this sonnet is meant to express an asymmetrical feel, these slight deviations are designed to support that.
I welcome feedback regarding these choices!
Join us at dVerse Poet’s Pub where we are challenging ourselves with the Sonnet Form. This week I am hosting a special edition of Meeting the Bar where I support our month-long Sonnet Challenge with a close look at how the enjambed line impacts our sonnets.
In the July Challenge, Lynn (Colorful Pen) put out a double challenge combining two forms. It proved to be the best work-out I’ve had in ages! Here is my version of her wonderful beginning. (Yes, I cheated a bit on the anagramatic part; there’s a K, a V, and couple of H’s. Sigh.) Thanks for the opportunity to collaborate with you, Lynn!
Poems can ring, rise upon sun and moon
or bring momentum to an errant flame.
Maybe it falls face first, mangled too soon
its sound wailing against the sting of rain.
Dawn will singe your senses, set them all free
perform song and acrobatic dances
cry out in celebration, yours to see
wings grand will sprout if you’ll cast your glances
To the dusk, flapping gallant gilt banners,
twirling ribbons of cantos all abloom.
Pursuing monsters bearing your answers,
your poems will be as a fancy perfume
Restorative balm let poems declare
Rise from burnt cinders and yield to the air
Collaborative Poetry of Burton/Lyman