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People Sonnet Poems | Sonnet Poems About People

These People Sonnet poems are examples of Sonnet poems about People. These are the best examples of People Sonnet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Sonnet |

A Shade From The Past

Just as days long ago, when decorum resolved, 
before composure, and poise,.. were corsages of weeds
where propriety mattered, and was favored as gold,
high society, has gathered to flavor their tea
                                                      
There's a trellis, embraced by a rose climbing vine,
while places are set, ready for dining in jade
shadows of arthritic old trees. Slivers of sunshine
and silver leafed branches, sift magnolia bloom shade
 
Tea will be served, by large knuckled hands 
at several round tables dressed with Swiss lace designs
Wearing lavender silk is our proper Grand Dame'
who fits her surroundings, as vintage as wine

Voices are lilting like the birds in the trees
Laughter and chatter, mingle with soft, summer breezes 

 
A bouquet of old friends, around a few scattered tables. 
Silver coifed hairdos, to make celebration
Crepe myrtle and wrinkles, beneath ashes and maples
Water cress munchies, and triangle creations

Sweet honey-suckle, tucked over the porches.…
Rose petal blossoms, are painted on china 
Bridge cards, tumble by Blue Willow dishes
Biscuits from England, crumble sublimely

Large bosoms bouncing, and big floppy hats
Gossip dished up with lemon-sliced frowns
Up in the tree is the neighbor's calico cat
who catches a glance, and a chance to crawl down

Are they ladies of leisure, from a time that is lost?
Or a painting I've seen on the wall from the past?




______________________________
Inspired By the Garden Party Contest
Sponsored By Cyndi McMillan 6/6/14


Details | Sonnet |

Ghost Rider in Vegas

He caught a ride to somewhere going nowhere;
first hopped inside a slowed-down limousine.
The driver felt a chill and turned to stare
at someone seated in the back unseen.

A new car’s scent; the passenger smelled nothing.
The seat of luxury he could not feel.
The driver then off-key began to sing
to no one as he slowly tapped the wheel.

His passenger joined in and crooned unheard
that ancient tune “It was a very good year,”
his old blue eyes once clear becoming blurred,
and down his cheek there rolled a single tear.

Again compelled, the chauffeur turned his head -
then saw a small spot where the tear was shed.


Details | Sonnet |

EAST OF EDEN

The cityscape flowed into a winding trail

that took me into the green heart of the park

and I shrugged off a mindset overly stale,

as light teased a creek that stowed waters dark.

Weak, I found a seat, low and ergonomic,

a stump that offered me one hundred rings,

so I sat and listened to sisters reed and willow

touched by the teachings their humility brings.

Others walked by, most plugged into iPods 

They never noticed the blue heron that stood

deep in holy shadows painted by our God

now cast aside for wireless serpents. Woods

shrink as new iDols sow unoriginal sins,

Technology’s church grows just east of Eden.



Details | Sonnet |

DEAR ELIZABETH



                                           Doth it not thrill thee, Poet
                                           Dead and dust though thy art,
                                           To feel how I press thy singing
                                           Close to my heart?

                                               ~By Richard Le Gallienne~
                                              (The Passionate Reader to His Poet)

             ______________________________________________

~~*~~ Lady, passionate lady, what should I call you? The title wordsmith is brassy and dully clangs, And poetess only mocks, is meant to subdue, Though lovely all of your works, they often bared fangs. As a child they christened you, Poet Laureate, You had penned your first verse when you were only six, Your father owned slaves, to his ways you’d not submit, The poem, ‘Curse for a Nation’, true justice depicts. Robert read your book ‘Poems’ and became smitten, Long letters were exchanged, for two souls felt like one, “Sonnets of the Portuguese” is love’s famish written, Not one word rings false, not a line comes undone. Beauty mingles with anguish in supplicant verse, You prove from the sour of life, sweet can emerse. ~~*~~
*By Cyndi MacMillan, October 26, 2011 **For Constance’s “The Passionate Reader” Contest ABOUT THIS POEM I was twelve when I fell head over heels for Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetry. My own copy of “Sonnets of the Portuguese” had a black velvet cover. The velvet has developed severe worn spots through the years… it is that cherished. Due to an illness she had her entire adult life, Elizabeth suffered such great physical pain that she took opium. Some say that the drugs made her more creative. I disagree. Elizabeth suffered many losses in her life: a younger brother when she was only 8, her mother when she was just 22, and two brothers (one of whom she was very close to) when she was 34. It was at 35, when she became somewhat of a hermit, she was the most prolific. Writing is an outlet for deep emotions (don’t we know it!), and I believe her poetry is born of pain, not painkillers. The union of two highly regarded poets is one of the most beautiful love stories I’ve ever heard. Their mutual admiration is, to me, what true romance is about. And Elizabeth, here on Poetry Soup, reminds me very much of E.B.B. I dedicate this poem to her.


Details | Sonnet |

Nikan

Inspired by;  Constance La France’s Native American Portrait 


Nikan is a man who once stood proud and true all across this land
in symbiotic relation with nature endowed by the great creators hand
passed onto him by his ancestors to never take more than his fair share
and always be kind to this land for it’s the Mother to all whom she shall bare

When times are lean we all will grow thin together for together we are one
with one voice to sing in harmony for bountiful harvest to our Father the Sun
and give him thanks and praise for warming and making fertile our Mother
who blessed new life into the birthing seasons for every Sister and Brother

Great spirit hear my song of hope that I sing for my people who will cry
we are mighty on the earth give us protection or your children they will die
and our people’s blood will flow upon our Mother like deep rivers of raging red
O’ Father I can see no solution will you spare us from the white mans dread 


I could never make claim to imagine this great man’s woeful sorry or despair
Nikan's song is a lonely tune played for the spirit of his people upon the air.


Nikan traslation from the Potawatomi "MY Friend"

Baamaapii Nikan.......until we meet again my friend


Details | Sonnet |

This is David

From his mama's own mouth, this story came
Her travail to carry him, a long trail
Of tears, loneliness, suffering and shame
A hunger for which hope made no avail
And then the hemorrhaging, her vital blood
Like common mud, tearing his world apart
Your life and her life in that tragic flood
The sudden silence of his beating heart
Sirens, Hospital, still he died, once, twice
The doctors testified, for they helpless stood
Perplexed, frustrated with every device
God alone that day turned evil to good ...
Made his purpose seen in life's providence
Restored hope by frail wisp of evidence.
                          ii
A pimple of flesh, great folds of white sheet
The child like raisin in its crumpled spot
Seemed more alien than a baby sweet
With shriveled skin, and head a global pot
O the tense days, miserable and lone
The furtive prayers of a mother's heart
"As bad as can be, Lord, make him my own,"
The nervous scanning of the daily chart.
The little blimp became a form, a frame
A sense of gladness, a kindle of dream
A moon's memory that gave spring a name
A fresher hope from lost of true esteem.
She called him "David," went to work again
Lifting the load of pain, bearing the stain.
                         iii
And there in that dark environment he
Like stubborn cactus in dry sand made root
Sucking up the elements, the salt sea
And violence, the meaningless of truth
War and poverty needs no moral code
Survival survival was a luxury for him.
Harsh, and cruel is desire where abode
Drought an, d scarcity, their horizon dim.
We burn trees for coal, cannot make storm
Wealth provides small control, the poor has none
No shelter from life's threats nor men's harm
Nothing is secure, no, not with a gun.
But jackals make them, the frightened keep them
Like buzzards over our sweet Bethlehem.
                          iv
O David, you should have left that day. You
Should have held your rudder firm 'gainst that breeze
But too little strength was left in sinew,
To heavy the armor that bowed your knees
And deaf the heart that heard the voice before
And answered at eleven. Hope endures
Through even darken deserts, light has a door
To love no human sad ever ignores.
God saved your life twice on the day of birth
And did three more times when you turned your back
To sealed your purpose in your spell on earth.
From the brink of hell, God's love brings you back
To be his Paul, his missionary bright
His little tiger flaming through the night.
     

  


Details | Sonnet |

Sonnet to Thoughtful Women

I did not wish to leave your warm embrace --
   I did not wish for our sweet love to end --
And though your chauvinism's a disgrace,
   I cannot help but see you as a friend.
Perhaps someday a sweeter girl you'll find,
   Who'll do just as you wish for her to do --
A girl who doesn't have a thoughtful mind,
   So she can focus all she is on you.
She'll nod her head, and brainlessly agree
   With anything you say, to make you smile --
She'll cook your meals and serve you honeyed tea,
   And never stop her chatter all the while;
So when your brain cells rot from lack of use,
   You've only you to blame, and no excuse.


Details | Sonnet |

Happy Birthday Jenny (Kyrielle Sonnet)

Happy birthday to you Jenny
Hope your big day brings you plenty
Keep a bright smile all the way
Your mom sings your praises today

Soon you will be driving to school
Don’t forget to follow the rules
Enjoy your day with a buffet
Your mom sings your praises today

Happy birthday to you Jenny
Don’t forget to save your pennies
Wish on a star on your great day
Your mom sings your praises today

Happy birthday to you Jenny
Your mom sings your praises today

© Joseph, 8/20/2007
© All Rights Reserved

This is for the the daughter of our own poetess, Kathy.

The Kyrielle Sonnet is a French form from the Middle Ages. It has 14 lines (three 
rhyming quatrains and a non-rhyming couplet). It has a repeating line or phrase 
as a refrain in the last line of each stanza.  Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet 
has eight syllables.  There are times when a French poem links back to the 
poem’s beginning; therefore, a common practice is to combine the first line of 
the first quatrain and the refrain in each quatrain as the ending couplet for the 
poem.


Details | Sonnet |

December of that Year - Finale

Throughout the days that followed, panic and carnage spread
The TV stations did their best to calm this human dread
All the hovering ships returned to whence they came
But thousands still appear above, New York now not the same

Communication now wanes, no power or mobile phones
You get a sense of feeling of being in a world that feels alone
Continual drones hum whilst the yellowed skies remain
Our planet we know as it was, will never be the same

Then came the day of reckoning as we all looked to the sky
A shuttle from the biggest ship lowered in hover fly
Suddenly the screens returned as we heard the visitors speak
We are ancestors of the Mayans, we treat as they were wreaked

From our original pasts demise, to earth we gave so long
To be part of here now gone, from an earth you once belonged






http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-17.php




Details | Sonnet |

Theory of devolution

I am a pacifist I despise war.
It’s the only thing I actually hate.
I’m never able to brace myself for
Diplomacy that deteriorates:
Recriminating dialogue amuck
That results in irrationality.
Adults become intellectual schmucks
Whose mentality in reality
Is equivalent to a chimpanzee
In spite of our advances in science.
Our mentality still swings from the trees
Where once apish self’s had claimed provenance.
We haven’t evolved from our ancient source
Thus war is likely a matter of course.


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