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For I am my fool's captain by Lines, Jackie
Judgment, Bloody Judgment by Lindsey, Catie
No Fear by Zuma, Busani
Crows can be hot by Joe, Sloppy
Jane Eyre by cornish, craig
Lost in Thy Lords Love by Carey, Ninette
A Families Pray by Carey, Ninette
Crucified by dye, gary
Temperance by dye, gary
I am a stranger by Zuma, Busani

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The Best Crown Of Sonnets Poems

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

A Crown of Thorns

Insanity has its own wellspring and demise.
There is no better place to hide than between coils
of convoluted grey-white matter which can't recoil.
Mind has no leering lips to scorn or show surprise 
as ungoverned, the ancient demon-dancers rise.
The traitorous bits, which cut with Brutus’ red fang,
have no regard for the womb from which they sprang.
They seek dominion; they care not for your cries.
Crazed, their freedom paid for on the rack, how they sang
of anything, of windigos’, and warriors winged 
of fresh flesh beneath a gibbous moon's harangue, 
where those in sanity beneath their blankets cringed.
Night terrors sweat the sheets of the weak, as fear sprang,
a ripened, musky-scent arose from those unhinged.
A ripened, musky-scent arose from those unhinged
cloaked in mirrored, morose, magic; the mind a foil,
the heart, the soul, the sunny days, caste down, embroiled; 
destined to languish convulsed in the depth of coil.
Brightness, so dimmed, is lost within a rancid soil,
left to meet horned demons all but unarmed, alone, 
no company except the mirrored self-entombed,
no bliss state, no ripening sweetness to uncoil
a compost heap of bitter memories, atone ...
atone, little mother, well-used wife, wander now,
seeking ever seeking, yet finding no one home,
insanity wakened, waits, patiently endows ... 
empty days and nights, the infrequent sound of om,
cuddling the traitorous bits, shooing brighter dreams roused.
Cuddling the traitorous bits, shooing brighter dreams roused,
the teeth of dogged night rise-up, they breed turmoil.
Deep within the sleeping mind of men, sorrows roil.
Abandonment, disloyalty, hatred espoused,
all shriek to the traitor, the night arouses. 
Niggardly night, loath to lose ground within the dome
of blanched white, gray matter, within this skull of bone,
delights in the sorrowful detail night houses.
Insanity licks raw the salted wound entombed, owned.
"What could we be?" the ego cries to he or she.
"What would we be?" the windigo screams but, “alone.”
On, on, they chatter in the carapace, they breed, 
spreading dark matter, for they've no chaperone,
no friend to stay the brutal cousins, so mislead. 

No friend to stay the brutal cousins so mislead,
so in darkness, fear and hatred spread on fertile soil.
Yet, self-hatred shields its sharpened claws, as day uncoils
filling the breach with bright creations, dark concedes, 
and dims the room while manic laughter recedes.
A sunrise bows through prism-glass and colors swell
a lighter laughter comes, newborn to dwell.
Hands that once drew only blood, now tune bent reeds                        
of green, blades of springtime grass within the dell;
where larks sing and long lost lovers dare to reunite, 
no mention made of darkness or the depth of hell,
for sanity has cast a lighter stage this night.                       
Daybreak suspends the demon-dance upon the fell,
now, fairies prance in pastures high, and verse delights.
Now, fairies prance in meadows high, and verse delights
her fancy takes a softer turn at his behest,
with buttercups, in a Fairy Ring, they coalesce,
and shine the golden glow beneath a chin of white.
With the talent of a troubadour, love does strum
upon desire's strings the raging beast is culled
as coy love songs and  sweet lullabies emerge from
the hidden depths of mind where sanity is mulled.
With the talent of a troubadour love does strum
upon strings of desire the fearful beasts are culled 
as coy love songs and sweet lullabies emerge from
the stygian depth where her frail sanity is mulled.
How long will harmony dance to love's blissful hum
Will dark's whine wake, disturb, insanity so lulled? 
Will dark's whine wake, disturb, insanity so lulled? 
A scent of jasmine fills the air with swarming gnats.
Her covered ears belay the sound of feral cats
yet, huddled in his sheltering arms, her pain is dulled.
Dulled, but not waylaid, raging, she becomes unglued
She starts to rock, to whimper, and then, cry out- loud
begging for the dev'lish tide to leave, as he vowed,
renting strands of flaxen hair from her small skull.
Torn, he watches as she fades within a shroud,
a witless waif, bedeviled by the harvest moon.
He had to leave; he could not stay beneath this cloud
ever waiting for this, her omnipresent doom.
His love had its limits and yet, he was not proud,
Oh, he could not stay and watch her be consumed.


Oh no, he could not stay and watch her be consumed,
to have his pleasant memories of ardor's bloom
be marred by images of her so poorly groomed. 
No, never would he stay to see her be consumed.
One morn he left, his sum was not what she'd presumed. 
And, she sat in the rocker by the door unfazed,
her bowed lips o'er cast and her eyes o'er glazed, 
alive, but not, her nascent sanity entombed.
Death had come, death of the mind, his metal now assayed
he ran from old memories, as each thought enticed.
Their first tryst 'neath jasmine vines vanished in a haze.
Was love's reward, a sweet repast, mania's disguise?
Would true love have held the course where sanity betrayed,
insanity has its own wellspring, and demise.

First Published Five Poetry Magazine 2014

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015

More great poems below...

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

The Father Of Light

Silken slivers....

Aside the rolling sea

Falling from the knowing stars

Beyond these swaying trees ~

Shadows playing, now

Beneath their dancing leaves

Twirling toward the waiting ground

Amid this summer's breeze ~


Splashing upon their journeys canvas

Colliding, with the darkened skies

Celestial colours of heavenly wonders

These painting's, before my joyful eyes ~

Turning toward such whispers, now 

Which penetrate the darkened night

Echoes of Angelic splendours

Gliding, atop the timeless tide....

Twinkle twinkle, you silken stars 

Now I know, just who, you are!

Walking toward the waiting shoreline ~

From beneath these swaying trees

Endless lights of brightened wisdom

Amid this summers breeze

Truth, beyound the promised horizon 

Within this place I've seen ~

And heard Angelic voices

Whisper, "Your Light," deep inside of me

"The Father, of All Creation!"....

.............."My Soul"............


Now waltzing upon, "Your Eternal, Sea!" *

Copyright © Johnny Rhinem | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |


                           It is a terrible thing
                           To be so open: it is as if my heart
                           Put on a face and walked into the world.

                                          Sylvia Plath, Three Women, 1962


Sylvia, ever lucent, ever opaque,

an incongruity, a clever imbalance               
that spins collections her hounds facilitate.  
Failures and fractures she bravely lanced
with noncompliance. Reader, rebuff collars
labeled as forewords, smug introductions, 
for Plath’s voice is tenfold more a scholar 
than those receiving undue benedictions.    
Lofty beggars seek to bookend her words
and that empty space she instinctively refills
with her universe, a mayhem that girds,
unapologetic. Mirror images spill
over margins, searching for identity,
negating preamble, snubbing apathy.   

Negating preamble, snubbing apathy
with language that flickers, catches, combusts,
her volumes of wicks, her lit soliloquies,   
glint behind the stained-glass of trust.
There are those who are not really here,
they wander fault lines then crisscross chasms,
lost pilgrims who easily commandeer
unwary emotions. Some hearts just spasm,                         
pulled by their own nature, their delicacy,
for poetry is a weakness; poets die
between verses. Odes can become elegies.
The thin-skinned hear a snared rabbit cry,
and pray for the moonflower, always closing,
while cursing that page, unmoved and dozing.

While cursing that page, unmoved and dozing,
she corners rigid guides, keeps fingers poised,
synchronicity goes, the flow of typing
disappears, mislaid, that perfect noise
of a carriage return, a sound exclamation.
Joy is inspiration making its way home,
her Olivetti forages like a raven,
gifting found nouns, verbs that glare like chrome,
but love still flits, turns from hoarse requests,
and she longs for more than any man can give
for what snags worn ribbons will not rest,
it emits a strong beat, throbs as it loves.
Bless the bitter of life, all wisdom owing,
curse the open heart, its shadows showing.

Curse the open heart, its shadows showing,
for worldly delights take full advantage
of the wounded, their brokenness growing.
Everyday beauty wrings arteries, dredges
chambers with barbs, a prompt disobedient.
Fact, there’s no folder large enough to hold 
elation’s girth, no ink conveniently
on hand to black out depression. So, scold
the yew, its roots and branches reaching,
then poke at petals for being complacent, 
when all the while a candle is preaching
of give and take, surrender, luminance,
So, carefully archive apprehension,
revealing blue veins to tender lesions.

Revealing blue veins to tender lesions
requires much more than a room of one's own,
hours do dissolve, days lack cohesion 
when milk sours and tantrums are thrown.
Solitude is in short supply, loneliness,
however, is overstocked; her mind tugs      
at busy hands for attention, such darkness
contrasts to jammy smiles and sleepy hugs.
Elusive titles whimper each morning,
and short stanzas steep, so desperately,
all the while a manuscript is scorning
her swipes at dry crumbs, cold pots of tea.
A life sheds its months, gallows take delight
as sundials atrophy in the arms of night. 

As sundials atrophy in the arms of night. 
the moon blanches tidepools, suckles sand,
even the face of the clock is pulled too tight
and the new calendar can not understand
that writing is sex, is fresh bread, is air,
that time is a brute, quick fisted, rough,
that weeks come and go without a care
that a marriage vow is never enough
to mend adoration, repossess bliss.  
Words make better lovers, rarely stray,
upon her lips, the impression of a kiss
feels as cold as sheets then melts away.
Paper sops afterbirth, accepts her all:
fossil and seed, shackles and free falls.

Fossil and seed, shackles and free falls,
unlocking visions, defying any cage, 
art resists validity, upsets stone walls  
to scale the scarlet heights of a rampage,
to breach the barricades to euphoria.
She excavates id, bares teeth at ego, 
plays the parts of illusion and phobia
then infuses rhyme with soft indigo. 
Colossus begins to shrivel as Ariel
unmans him, riding hard upon metaphors,
and will remain strong, constant, ethereal. 
but curtailed are epics that still implore  
like the cusp of dream long after you wake

Sylvia, ever lucent, ever opaque.


* For Craig Cornish

Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

Poetry Soup

She was always there 
Afraid to speak
She hid in corner of my mind
In the dark
She knew
She could feel 
She could see
But yet 
She was different some how 

Poetry Soup has made her feel at home
With a warm embrace 
An their guiding grace
She knows now that this is her place 
Home Sweet Home..... 

Copyright © Ninette Carey | Year Posted 2015

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

Jesus Call His Name

When in doubt
Call his name
When in pain
He will take it away

Call his name
When you say a Prayer
If your sad and blue
He is there for you

If you want a hug
He will embrace you
If you want to talk
He will listen

Call his name
If you want answers
If you have doubts
He is the one

Call his name
If you want someone to love
Sing to him
Give him praise

Lend a ear
Give a hand
Help those in need
Call his name

Copyright © Angel Plant | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

Mesmerizing Butterfly - enamoured soul

Tropical quadra plateau, Amazing bright sunny,
Glided waterfall Carrying happiness in their gunny.
Long nodding flower's joyously plumed,
Everbody waving happily, the herald bloomed.
Eureka, I love this heaven on earth!

Hazy perished hills, houses trenching at the outskirts,
Swaning over to the fluctuating peak of mountains, roosted with struts.
Orchid waftured, Clinging on to the cluster of flowers,
Precipitated rain was about to shower.
Gosh, it Stimulated my soul!

King of beast, sucking the sweet tempting fragranced juices,
Solitary alienate species including Honey bees mused badly abuses.
Fluttered wings, Struggling with them, Leisurely travelling my journey.
Fitnessed physically as if I am in an defensing army.
Situation turned to be  horribly muddle,
Tremendously, I wanted to sort and excitedly cuddle!

Proud to have an Airfoiled wings of mine,
Antennate feature you prissily shine.
Rainbowis passion lying inside me,
Resourcefully mingled with music and dance, happening besides me.
Whoa,People got entranced!

People jeopardize the innate beauty,
Relishingly wanna do my duty.
Actuating my arms, Ventured to fly high.
Intended inspiration wanted to reach the sky.
Weaving the web spiderman thirstily trying me to catch.
Escaping from them I ran, prevented myself from getting snatched.
Ohhh,They had a Hostile faction accord!

Nature's beauty aspiringly propelled me.
Blowing wind, tactily sensisizing my skin,
Blushing cheeks, spilled the bean.
Nocturnal creatures will wake in the dark,
Aerophilically dangling around the shruby bed,before they bark
Stopping by sayonara, continuing my next  stigmatic destiny!

By Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare

Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |


I am lost
I can feel no presence
I know of no human or animal that has a measure of significance alike mine
I have a teacher
A teller of all there is to be known of the world
She has bestowed upon me the gifts of a magi
I have sailed deep oceans with noblemen and written great works with worldly scholars
All of this I owe to her, my "teacher"
But through all her wisdom I have heard or seen of no such creature
The one of whose value is as mine
I looked upon the oracle and many great libraries with scriptures overflowing
I still have read or seen of no such monster
I've heard witches speak ancient incantations
and I have sung songs with the sirens
Out of the monsters and spirits that came none of which had a significance as is mine
Upon my dreariness and woeful thought came the final place
A painting of life and death
A tale of heaven and hell at war
The purity of truth blackened by man
 I saw upon them a thing of which is mine
Not upon the dead who will be missed
Nor the skeletons carrying away the dead, the ones with purpose
Not even of the severed limbs and broken bones discarded at random in the field of chaos and confusion
No, I saw my equal upon the shadows
A black being darker than silence
A causer of mischief and misfortune
A wielder of pain and sorrow
My equal is hated by all for all he has done
My equal is upon the wicked and the damned sadly he is to dumb to care
My equal of such tresspasses is a demon
My equal is a man who dressed in black kills and dies and is born again through his ashes of filth
He sees his crimes
It is because of this he wept upon his hands
His hands
The hands stained my children's blood and scared by the scratches of the innocent
But I was wrong
I am not equal to a demon, for these are not the acts of a demon but of man
That is my equal 
My equal is man
My sins are everlasting 
My transgressions are in stone
Man is the cause for the failure of men
Man is the cause for the failure of many!

Posted by Haley Melton at 3:37 AM  
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Copyright © Haley Melton | Year Posted 2014

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

Jane Eyre

I shall not live as in a room of red.
I was not born to be what others presume
and stay within that state until I am dead;
punished within my own hellish doom,
scratching at the walls that others build 
and those which I construct to block them out,
until my world becomes so cold and chilled -
or in the darkness, I dare not move about.
Who is not God, that looks upon my form
and sees a child that never will a lady be;
will never visit peace where truth is sworn,
forever cursed to live among the Reeds.
None are truly orphaned in God's eyes,
Those who "use" God will fashion their demise.

Those who "use" God will fashion their demise,
like Headmaster Brocklehurst used piety for gain
and ruled like many of his kind, with tyranny and lies.
These lessons learned, within my soul, forever will remain;
but a gift of destiny would shine a loving light,
a friend who would forever remain in my heart -
Dear Helen, who could find faith and hope in bleakest night
and spread her love and smile ... even on departing.
Here, in the midst of this tribulation,
I found kindred spirits I had never known.
Helen and Ms Temple, who both taught me patience -
I left Lowood into a Lady grown.
My image peers back from a dusty pane;
are you ready for what lies next dear Jane?

Are you ready for what lies next Dear Jane?
How much more could my brand be tempered;
how close to the fire before molten puddles remain;
how much of this life will I cherish when remembered,
or will these years pile upon me until I beg to leave?
No matter, I will never bend to self pity,
nor gazing at my visage grieve
or think my lot in life was petty.
This time at Thornfield, no matter what it brings;
whether I am queen or governess,
the only wound to soul that truly stings -
are those that tween my self worth slip.
Demeaning barbs like Lady Blanche has thrown
are those like all the rest I've known.

Are those like all the rest I've known, 
so hateful - why must they demean?
- While Master Rochester, in his eyes, I've seen a glow,
also, deep within, are secrets still unseen.
Shadows that drift like a storm may never go,
like a raging fire never to be quelled,
and forbidden truths ... much too hot to hold,
disguised now as a Gypsy he'd foretell.
Could he truly find love in me, not Blanche?
And if so, should I flee my own yearnings 
within which my spirit sings and dances,
but then, through all the rest of life, what have I learned?
Yet, this is caring and belonging I have never seen,
still, I cannot forget where I have been.

Still, I cannot forget where I have been;
will I still be someway in servitude?
No matter what I wear, what will others see,
but, if I run, will regret forever be my mood?
No, I must marry this man I love - Adele - this place.
Where he is, is my only true home -
then, to the hidden truths I awake!
This secret kept,  I will not condone,
this terrible burden now upon us,
a mad woman locked like the madness of this all;
this life of mine again unjust -
too much pain for one life to allot!
For my own sanity I must say goodbye.
Please, Dear God, be with me, at my side.

Please, Dear God, be with me, at my side.
This place, this situation, I must flee,
if only to be me for more than pride,
but for my painful heart to believe.
At Marsh End, I am at least equal.
Love and friendship have a guiltless exchange.
Here, I am no longer fearful,
still, I think of Thornfield where a part of me remains.
I now know that others love me for who I am
and my value in this world is real.
I've been proposed to by another man,
so more hidden doubts can be unveiled.
The inheritance I received may be a sign,
These trials I have endured are left behind.

These trials I have endured are left behind,
but not the value of the lessons learned.
The journey henceforth is truly mine
to share with whom my passion yearns.
From far away I feel Edward near 
and go to find the castle in ruins;
what have I done, for my love I fear ...
my head races with so many emotions,
this heart, this love, was pent up with anger,
in a world which I ... did not trust.
Within myself, and in your arms, there is no danger -
no walls to block your loving touch -
I am free from what I dreaded,
I shall not live as in a room of red.

This is a Modern Sonnet Crown

Copyright © craig cornish | Year Posted 2015

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

Missing Pieces

Once there was a time. 
A long time ago.

As I was looking for a flat.
Making sure it was right for me.

Just so I could make it my own.
I took a walk through all the cracks 
and cervices.

Way over there, in an out of the way corner . 
That's when I seen it, the writing on the wall.

The closer I came, the more I saw a love spell.
 Although  It was wearing thin from years past. 

 This is how it read: 

 She ask, if she could get back all the missing
 pieces ~  all the pieces she had given away ,
To lovers that didn't stay.

All the parts that had been broken, and betrayed.
All the parts that were left out in the rain.

All the parts that were dropped and kicked around.
It said, she didn't think they wanted them anyway.
All the parts of herself , she felt she lost along the way.
She ask for all the missing pieces  to be returned to her.

If that was ok  ~  Just so she wouldn't fade away.  

7/ 9 / 2011  8pm
Was looking through a 3 ring binder of my old poetry, I found this one . No doubt we all have pages of poems.   

Copyright © Debbie Duncan | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

From Him

I guess I was wrong.
I'm a total fool.
My love for you was so strong.
How could I have ever loved you?

You said he was no one.
You had no idea who he is.
Well it's obvious he's someone.
With him, I knew what you did.

I gave you all my love.
You'll never know how much I cared.
My life just fell apart.
This pain I just can't bare.

I've been through this before.
Though it hadn't been with you.
I never thought you'd do this..
I always thought you would be true.

Now I must live my life without you.
Together we'll never be..
For you've found someone new.
And no longer need me.

12  10   1997  From " his " point of view .

Copyright © Debbie Duncan | Year Posted 2012

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

In Praise of All Old Friends

Of all old friends, those we have of old are best;
These the souls we travel with by preference,
Theirs the spirits to whom we grant all deference.
Their hopes are ours, and ours their own; 
All victories shared, from like ambitions grown.
Their years match step with ours,
And show like passage of the hours,
The silent steps of Time with which are lives are sown.
They are moved as we are moved;
Troubled and pleased by like turns of Fate,
We pass through one another's gates
Into the rooms where loyalty is proved
By ties of woven sympathies,
By bonds that no outsider sees.

By bonds that no outsider sees
We tie ourselves to those who share
The pithy heart of all unspoken cares,
The shadows that would dim our days
If no one shared our private ways,
If none there were to let us know
The fitness of the face we dare not show;
The old friend nods and quietly stays
Close by our side when mere acquaintance leaves,
Unashamed to share our darkest inner night;
Awaits with us the slow return of light.
The old friend trusts and faithfully believes
The tales we tell ourselves of joy or sorrow,
Looking back to yesterday and forward to tomorrow.

Looking back to yesterday and forward to tomorrow,
We walk with them through the wilderness of living
Thankful for their prescence and forgiving,
As do we, the flaws that mark our human bounds
Ignoring the discordant note that sounds
From time to time in all the narrative
We build to define our days and give
Form and substance to the constant rounds
Of night to day and day to night,
Our mutual progress towards Eternity,
The approaching dark we do not wish to see
Unless in company with the comforting light
Of well-earned close companionship,
Of sympathetic souls who join us on the trip.

Seeking truths wherein the brave heart delves,
We guide each other through our dwindling days
And face the world, and learn its ways,
Its cruelties and its beauties shared
Both the better for each time we dared 
To question this, our common Lot:
To Be, awhile, and then to Not.
And so we share all we have got
To fill our time, to weave our lives.
Without old friends, the path is drear and long,
Where goes but one to compose the song
To tell of what we were, and how we strived
To rescue Sense from Folly, and all the rest;
Of all friends, those we have of old are best.

Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2009

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

Touch Of Skin

The sun caresses my skin on this hot summers day. 
It would be wonderful for a slight rain to splash on my 
skin in such a way.

I should love it if a cool breeze came floating by.
 Time seems to be going by slowly these days.

I hear the words whispered from his lips.
 "Don't go all shy on me now".
As his fingertips caress the length of my spine.

We lay naked on the top of the summer meadow.
A kiss on the lips, a kiss on the hips.

I seen the cranes fly, as I moved to his touch.
They flew from the edge of the pond, below us.
As we were spread out on the large quilt.

High on the peak, I with my book of prose.
Him, with his glistening body dripping beads of sweat.

I've come to these's highlands since I could remember.
This place was a staple of my childhood, in fact , this 
mountain hilltop belonged to my grandparents.

His words rolled on the slight movement in the air.
" Be still",   "it was our little game we played". 
As he traced the nap of my neck with his tongue 
And found his way to my lips, our tongues entwined  
like ivy on the forest walls.

We had been friends since the age of twelve.
That's when his parents bought the adjoining land. 

You taste like sweet mountain honey, " all mine".
He knew his touch inflamed my senses, as finger
tips caressed his muscles, as nails pierced his skin.

He knew he drove me crazy, as I drifted into bliss.
Though still fully aware of his every touch, every 
rhythm of our heartbeats kept tempo with our inferno lust.

His every touch reminded me why I kept coming back for 
the summer vacations, besides my grandparents being old.
In fact this would be the last two days of summer pleasure.

I wouldn't want to lose my editing job, back in the city.

I felt his eager body quiver as we moved together in time.
As he pressed his hips against mine, it was all I could do. 
Lovely woman, you are my  summers favorite delight !!!           

Jan. 7, 2013 monday 10pm
I haven't written one like this in about five years. 
Thought I'd give it a try .

Copyright © Debbie Duncan | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

You Didn't Even Say Goodbye

Why did you just get up and go away?
I thought that you would be here for me every single day
You did not even say goodbye
And if things went wrong, why did you not say "Lets try"?
I sit by my window and I am all alone
I am sitting there waiting and you don't even phone
What shall I do for the rest of my life?
When I thought we'd always be together as husband and wife
So as I sit by my window, I know in my heart
That we'll be together again, because we were never meant to part
Then as I look out of my window
In another world I can see
We will be together as it was always meant to be

Copyright © Veronica Aicher | Year Posted 2012

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

Best Friends and Lovers

Best Friends and Lovers!
  In my mind were best friends and lovers. Sharing every fantasy lying here wrapped in your arms feeling loved and cared for. Love and lust mingling as we soar close to heaven. Our hearts beat as one when you hold me so close. Romance fills my thoughts as I escape to my fantasy once again to be with you, desperate to fill a void. Safe and secure beside you every craving stirs to life sensing your love, wanting you to fill all my needs and desires!
  Best friends share everything while lovers live out everything bringing the two soaring next to heaven's door. Talking to me even while turning me on all night yet never tiring of loving me. I cuddle into you and hold onto your chest till I fall asleep from this beautiful fantasy; I know you are only a thought away and I will return to love you and be loved by you, my best friend and lover!
Debbie Knapp

Copyright © Debbie Knapp | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |


I walk in the garden
To see the roses
While the dew is on the grass
So pretty to see

A place to be
Where sun shines through
A blossom so sweet
It opens up like a woman

The rose is strong
When the wind blows
While the rain falls
The storm blows

A rose is beautiful
With the grace of a swan
Long stem and thorns
It will rip you

Give's you joy
Lot's of pleasure
A big delight
The rose

Copyright © Angel Plant | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |


Family seeds planted generations that have passed to present  the greatest investments; The lives that has given us so much to grow on and on
 The bond between two generations that will last forever and ever 
 The planted seeds live on in all of us stronger and wiser
  May god continue to play a big part of us believing in him with our full trust.

Copyright © Paula lee | Year Posted 2012

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

MOCKINGBIRD - crown of sonnets

#1 "It is a sin to kill a Mockingbird. When playing games with rocks or guns, defray, them, please, ...shoot old tin cans!" "Whispered words of Mockingbirds, only heal wounds of the day" Virtues are cultivated, children are weeds, exploring a small southern town. Seeds, so rare, spread moral ivy, filling knotholes, threading trees, lining streets, during mad-dog summers. Scout, one sprout with solid roots, sifts wrong from right in spite of bull-headed pride. Stirring up dust, where resistance incites, although, brother, Jem, gently, grows more reserved. Scout, Jem, bud, "Dill", are bronzed by summer's sky Moral's compass guides them home, as night returns #2 Moral's compass guides them home, as night returns yet challenged, the precocious child making assumptions. Folks would confound her! Some people were an oddity and quite beguiling Summer would sigh with ceiling fans, softly purring, people napping, long afternoons. Wilted yawns of a lethargic town, might seem undisturbed, with complacency, behind pruned shrubs, tall grass, mowed. Yet stilted air, would suffocate, with racial slurs and secret hate. Some hid by day, and spending their nights in masquerade, while crosses burned. We'd see a face, pretentious smile, falsely blend Integrity, at bitter cost, split wide the seams in 1930. Civil rights were just a dream #3 In 1930, civil rights were just a dream, and motherless children were coming of age. Bare feet were swift. Bandaged knees and hands unclean, would slam old screen doors, to seek lemonade. A ghost, they feared, in the raw sided house, watched close. A tree in his yard, hid treasures he stashed. The three Musketeers, upon discovering, shout! Armed by bravado, they are ready to dash. Putting yourself into another man's shoes, is a lesson, soon learned by Scout and Jem. They've faced their fear, and will make a friend. "Boo", the 'phantom', a new best friend left trinkets and gems. Kindness learned, role model intact, was Atticus Finch. A measure of integrity, inch by inch. #4 A measure of integrity, inch by inch, advocate for those who won't stand a chance. Folks down on their luck, where dollars won't stretch in a depression full blown. Money is scant. Fighting for the underdog, who have no paycheck. What's right is right. What's wrong, is wrong. Someone must stand at the end of the day, where flies fill a courtroom and tempers grow stronger. Regardless of skin, be it black, be it white Unfit, by standards of talcum shaved chins, if injustice is war, he'll give his lot. The falsely accused, he'll defend, to the end Those who wallow in mud, eventually sling lies when honor goes to hell, and folks sit idle #5 When honor goes to hell, and folks sit idle, false accusations can simmer, slowly inciting bigoted people, into mobs, spewing cries of hate. Screaming "rape" into the night. Ignorance and prejudice, are all of one stuff with corn-likker sauce and gravy mentality, amphibian worms, as if from a trough, gorging on mania. They covet brutality. Led by Bob Ewell, with arrogance oozing. Clan- fed, tantrums squirming out of control. Small minded men, choosing squalor, alluding the truth. Some would sell their mother's soul. They have lied on the stand, where justice treaded thin. Where white man's word, over a black, always wins. #6 Where a white man's word, over black, always wins, was a rule of the thumb, during those years... The innocent man, Tom, shackled, condemned, taken away and waits to die, and endure With Indian summer, waxing and waning, Atticus chooses the simplest words. His children need, wisdom, and calm understanding, in trying to explain, that most men are good. He tells them, gently, how someone so crude, even Bob Ewell, no matter how evil perhaps in his life, was misunderstood. The hellish of summers begins to unravel. But another ill wind, would brew up a storm, to bring more than a flurry, into their home. #7 To bring more than a flurry into their home, burnt embers of color, drift down, red and yellow. Carved pumpkins, and a grieving autumn, looms in the night. Roaches encroach, deep in the shadows As Scout rushes homeward, behind her on the trail, a whiskey-breath nightmare, with evil intentions Then, someone appears! Halts this devil,...,Ewell is not immortal! we come to conclusion. A guardian presence, waiting to rally has kept a vigil, guarding children who run, swiftly through thickets. Lonely Boo Radley, appeared like an angel, a bird seeking the sun So pure of heart, and a thing so rare It is a sin to kill a mockingbird

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

Love or lust

Love the principal thing but scarce 
True meaning of love vanish into thin air
Just like vapor.
Many lust and think they love
See many youth with lustful desire
Soon it will wear and tire them out
A matter of time it is
You hear different word from their
Sugar coated mouth like
“Am falling in love with you”
Why can’t they just walk?
Tired of hearing break ups here and there
Reddish colors of the eye disgust me!
All I want is something genuine and real
Not fake, but something that you can feel.
Not something ashamed of
But something you are proud of
With smiling face I want to see people
Holding hands in agreement 
Without any dispute
So I can have a rest of mind

Copyright © sam tim | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

A Miracle

When you wake give thanks
All through the day,  pray
As you see things around you Give Praise
Ask and you shall receive
Think before you ask,  you may ask for
Something you don't need
Seek and you will find
Look around,  everywhere you look,
There is a miracle
Birds fly,  flowers bloom,  tree so tall, and sky's blue
Babies so small,  it's a miracle

Copyright © Angel Plant | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

I Know I Messed Up

Im sorry girl but I know I ****ed up, 
I know I can at times get so drunked up, 
But truth is girl we got to go our own way and suck it up, 
I love you still in my heart but we must part because its finished girl from the very start.
 Love aint easy and that *****can get too hard but we must play a new hand dealt cards
You deserve better than me Melinda because I might just drag us both down to the dirt ground left in the dark with silence no sound from both mine to your town........Im sorry Melinda Rose
 but love dies when it ceases to no longer grow 
you see me less and less until the forever show 
My love for someone different now is a choice I choose 
I will miss your sweet red hair all the way to your nubby little toes 
but remember Melinda Rose 
our love can only die when it CEASES TO GROW .........

Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |


Author Dana Redricks
September 14, 2014

Usually when people think of voices
They never think of the silent one’s
The one’s inside your head.
The one’s that hunt you while you sleep.
As you lie awake at night as terrible thoughts 
Feel your head.
The worse is when they tell you lies,
And the worst of that is when we
Accept those lies.
No one love’s me.
No one care’s, and the worse becomes
The worse; your mind goes in reverse.
We rehearse those terrible words over,
And over again until we have convinced ourselves
They’re true, but we never stop to think to whom
Voice we’re listening to.
Who is the author of lies? 
Whose job is it to defile?
Whom have hated you since you we’re a child?
It is him the deceiver of the world we’ve grown
To accept his lies, and the truth we despised.

Copyright © Dana Redricks | Year Posted 2014

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

Corpus delicti

Close your ears, close your eyes and pray to me for, as close as this, you may never get to God. What immortals have you hoped to see? What espirit de corp have you longed for? Who will guide your earthly plod? Kiss me for I have kissed the lips of Lestat, nipped and pricked, punctured and sucked to husks, occasionally with regret, but more often lust's ascot what once was I, reveling in your taste, your musk. As Louis, I beguile with tawdry tales surreal visages of plantation nights, horror of the color green, Letiche roaming creatures who our trails conceal, the true demons whose glamour goes unseen. Yes, I prayed for death, wrapped in the pain of lost kin but, by God I never wished, I never wished for Him. 2 But, by God, I never wished, I never wished for Him. Eternity alone is such a hollow thing, unripe, never, ever, feeling full, a marrow-less bone, scrim- shaw's sorry surface, a sperm-less whale to pipe. Such as this was He, when him came to me that mid- night, pleading, bleeding, ever feeding morbid life. A cameo on cowry shell, with skin which bid the touch of cheek on cheek to assuage my grief to fill the brother-less gap the lack of wife. This is how he lured me to the kill, the blood spilled how fire and innocence flamed when he arrived. Do not hate me for the fate his kiss instilled Surely, a family is the normal thing to long for alive or dead to long for an espirit de corp. 3 Alive or dead to long for an espirit de corp crestfallen at the lack of hearth and home, pride we hidden monsters kill what we adore, and more ... leaving us in marble crypts with no warmth inside. Then He saw her, the child beside the corpse of mother half dead, the pox upon her face, amidst the tears certainly to save her was His goal, what other? But now I think her savior - a most foul affair. Claudia, the child eternal, bidding, unformed blight, monster among monsters, her wee wicked formed unbudded curdled, curling ever inward, a trickster charming night stalker, dragging porcelain dollies by her side. Daughter mine? Temptress, maker-killer, unformed bride have you killed your father, dumped him in a swampy hide? 4 Have you killed your father, dumped Him in a swampy hide? Years you've planned and plotted, Lestat to defy and I absorbed in misspent fantasy with you; my fate allied. Damned one, poisoner, death angel, do you deny the desecration of the His unmoving vessel, fed to the fishes, the bottom feeders, oh but He made do ... absorbed recaste, laid in wait each hungry cell. We fled the patricide, you and I sought others of our kind. What gruesome, ill bred misfits the world held and so hardening the unbeating heart ... beloved to mankind we returned as if compelled. To the core of life and lore to Paree, to the bloody stage the Theatre des Vampires is home. Mockery's the rage. 5 The Theatre des Vampires is home. Mockery's the rage. Do you see them now? Four hundred years and Armand has not changed. See them lure the human meat upstage with laughter. Reality's the rage and oh the blood coined. "How gauche!" our petite Claudia sighs, the excess in gore and waste. But, the coven has my Armand's grace. For Claudia, Madeleine the doll maker dies, reborn to mother the horrific woman 'neath this childish face. A family formed again when Lestat steps in alive and the coven lets the sun take Claudia and Madeleine. I entombed, walled in, buried alive, if not for my Armand. Their ashes, oh my dears, in death entwined. I burned the lot of them within their caskets, burnt alive; the curtain fell yet there was still Armand and I. 6 The curtain fell yet there was still Armand and I. I could nor forget, would not forget, the fate of Claudia of which he was no small part, it was a small lust easily untied. Home was all I wanted, the damp, the swamp, the bougainvillea sickened of my Old World haunts, all I wanted was home. Never, never would I make another, a comfort I decline. Let the modern age wonder where it is I roam; penance unearned and ungiven in the shadows I hide. I can not live, I can not breathe, death's my only company my wife, my child, my brother, so many others. The living dead is what we're called, Vampire, do you pity me? Lestat "Do you see me? Your sight I dread!" West coast, golden gates Baghdad by the bay in the bars I linger where men are men, aren't they? 7 In the bars, I linger, where men are men, aren't they? I find you here, or you find me? I bare my soul to you of lessons learned, of men, of plays, ah cabarets. "What do you do, what do you say, you writer you ... two footed harridan of clay? You long for the eternal kiss as if the bliss of life was so very little to pay. Fool that you are ... not in life or death would you be grist a waste you are, a mortal led so far astray. No passion's left, no fond memories ... but her golden hair. Perhaps, I'll take a taste of you, foolish fop, and sigh; no immortal will I make. On the floor, I will leave you there refuse beside the pages, the sordid tales as my reply. As my lips close on your throat, heaven's absentee, close your ears, close your eyes and pray to me.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

By separating the "weak" from the "strong,"
The committed choose the path that is straight,
Solving problems before it gets too late,
Ready to sing a victorious song.
What is right is right! What is wrong is wrong!
The responsible create their own fate,
Which is the ultimate character trait,
Since opportunity will not wait long.
The responsible choose to play their role,
And want to step up to get the job done.
These are the committed who search their soul;
Their hearts are considered second to none.
United to pursue a common goal,
They will never stop until they have won.

Copyright © dakarai cobb | Year Posted 2010

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

It's beautiful

The moon reflected off the ocean, so bright and so real
 I spun around on my toes, with my face looking at the stars,
The cool breeze lightly touching my face
Wearing just my summer dress, 
The beautiful melody of song, in the Back round touched my heart
Everything was a dream, a fairytale
I put my hand to the blue moon light ocean
and put the droplets of sea salt on my face
the smell was amazing,
everything nature had to offer,
It gave it to me, just for that one night
I looked to the sky one more time 
The moon reflected off the ocean, so bright and so real

Copyright © Silent Poet Sarah | Year Posted 2012

Details | Crown Of Sonnets Poem | |

You Loved Me First

You Loved Me first
Was all I knew
There was no thirst 
For something new
Your Love was true
Through each day Your Love was by My side
Come what may
Your Love did not stray
To be so Young an to be Blessed with this Gift
I did not know 
That something's change
And I would be forced to regroup and rearrange 
Many days have come and gone
The Magic You brought to my soul 
Will forever keep me whole
I return to Our place
By Your side forever more  
Fulfilled in a Love that I Adore.....  

Copyright © Ninette Carey | Year Posted 2015