Poetry Sonnet Poems

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

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Details | Sonnet |
I find sanctuary in this sonnet
when as verdant hills rhymes do fall and rise
with aspens quaking in the windless skies.
One such will have blue birds flocking on it.

The trees shall be my muse and bid me write
while I in white gazebo am ensconced
with flowers vased, each color a nuance
in my lyrics, a-blush at first then white.

As I meander through a cloudless dream 
the shades ever change in the wake of love.
Each line will fit my lyrics like a glove
while blue birds harmonize in morning's gleam.

Eyes of love are each an estuary
in the sonnet of this sanctuary.

Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |
I know a very fine poet, a dear colleague, who’s so exquisitely talented and bright,
And has a superb facility with words and themes making all fit perfect and right;
She has an unrivaled mastery of the poetic art and writes with the best approach,  
And has an unparalleled ability to write the finest verse beyond any reproach. 

This poet’s sense of depth, empathy, and poetic variety is quite splendid to behold,
And she brings such compassion and power to her work worth its weight in gold;
With well-conceived themes and images she invites readers to her special dimension,
While enchanting them magically with sublime verses and holding their attention.

This poet communes with Our Poetry Muse, seeking her scope and enchanted vision,
And shares amply all with her readers with enraptured intent and a perfect precision.
Our friend’s poetry reflects always the human dynamic with such power and grace, 
And she finds the right tone, tenor, pitch and rhyme—putting them in proper place.
I must say I’m very proud of our colleague’s work and appreciate so her fine poetry,
And I’m so glad she’s with us and gives us such beauty and elegance in her poetry!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(November 9, 2014) (Shakespearean Sonnet in a Rhyme poetic format) 

*****Written for the “It’s All About Me Contest,” December 4, 2014*****

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Italian Sonnet |
I never enter every contest on soup Sometimes sponsors can be very hard to please Achieving first place is not always a breeze Some don’t like me writing poems about poop Yet every person is unique in our group Some wonderful poets with great expertise Writing different forms with consummate ease To be skilled like them then I’d be cock a hoop Yet people moan when they don’t get a high place Think their poetry is much better than 'mine' Tell the sponsors their judgment is a disgrace It saddens me their feelings are so malign Criticise until they are blue in the face For each of us thinks our poems are divine Written after reading Tommy Boy's recent blog Jan Allison N/A in contest judged on 20th November Submitted to trashed #4 sponsored by Broken Wings 10~17~15 Italian Sonnet - Rhyme Scheme - abbaabba cdcdcd

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |
Alone, on my own, with no one to show; no one to share, no one to care. My muse, she feeds my hungry craves; her gifts, are in my notebooks, saved. My muse, she paints; in quiet space; reflects on things, within life’s race. Through time and space, she does meander; creating schemed, as to her viewpoint, I pander. Filling pages, with storied delights and painting dreams, I have at night. In nooks and crannies, secrets lie; of course, a few, will always hide. It’s my prerogative, you see; and that’s the way, I’ll always be.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |
Of clay and water, I am made; day in, day out, here I stay. My soul, it yearns, to live and learn; as humans have, for all times turn. As passersby, all stare at me; I ever long to be set free. Trapped here in a stony chest; I suppose, it’s for the best. No elation, I will feel; no joy of dance, jig or reel. I stand alone, for all to see; a human, I will never be. Simply put, I stand alone; just another treasure, some museum owns.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |

Poetic forms are special tools for me;
their rhythmic patterns mold words into shape.
Like guarded gates, they hold the imagery
and keep it tight so it does not escape.
There are so many types from which to choose—
but strict iambic forms do challenge me.
Without construction, words sometimes confuse;
strong rhyme and meter shape my poetry.

A small iambic form that shines the best—
the Sonnet is a perfect writing scheme.
Its octave sets the stage, then sestet next
delivers firm reaction to the theme.

The ending couplet with conclusion's thought
sums up emotions or an answer sought.

Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Contest: Sonnet
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Judged: 11/25/2016

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |
Another morning filled with sun
Beckons the mind to open where,
Clearing the cobwebs has begun,
Dreaming so many words to share.

Enjoy my tea and my muffins
For this is when I’m most at peace
Grab pen and paper, fun begins
Hoping a new poem will release.

Imbedded in my mind are words,
Just wish I could remember some!
Knocking around, but never heard
Laugh it off, someday they will come.

Many thoughts appear thru the night
Never found with the morning light!

Copyright © Betty Janko | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |
Remarkable people, leave their mark, on this forlorn world.
The name for them, we hold quite dear, they are known as saints.
We so revere, these folks of love; though they were poor and worn.
These martyrs, we remember, by casting them in stone and paint.

Sacred iconography cannot show respect.
Respect is earned, only by its giving; remember saints with love.
Remember, saints watch from above; to mock them, is to reject.
The saints, they gave a precious gift; they gave their life and love.

These saint have made their mark on earth; passing life’s tough tests.
Respect them well, for they watch over, all souls upon this earth.
They’ll help you, get through tough times; teaching what is best.
For they have learned, hard survival, since the day of their birth.

Every country, creed and race, have their own loved saints.
They’ve lived and loved; cared and suffered; all without complaint.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
A KISS not just any kiss but thee kiss...........
First to connect
Your lips indulge mine 
Did 'nt see it just tasted it
I can still feel it
A kiss that told more than any poet
Ecstasy the room turned
Pleasure so divine
Hands that pulled my ebony ruffled curls
As your sensual mouth danced with mine
I made love to you that moment
All through my soul like ocean waves
Desire and fire
A flame so high
A pulse that could not deny
As your heart pounded
We grounded ....you and I....
Enclosed in a moment for two
A Kiss not just any Kiss but thee kiss..

Copyright © sarah hales | Year Posted 2010

Details | Italian Sonnet |
I shoot up above the silent, spellbound crowd,
Gaping down at their bright hands with glassy eyes,
Then I pierce the satin clouds that dress the skies,
And drift in space toward that eternal shroud,
The vast field of stars that angels tilled and plowed.
How the crowd tilts down their heads with gazeless eyes,
Staring tongue-tied at handheld luminous lies!
Yet I, head high in the clouds, remain unbowed.
But what have I found, while the world wastes away?
Some seek lowly lights, others shoot for the stars;
Some keep as pets the very pests they should slay,
Others spread their wings and apace fly away;
Because we’re the ones who’ll write our own memoirs, 
Let us wake up and roar, we must seize the day.

Copyright © Henrique Oliveira | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |
Monday morning slowly waking
Waking to a drizzly rain
Rain that comes down ever whispering
Whispering, time to wake again!

Again my mind’s ever churning
Churning with thoughts of the day
Day of poetry and yearning
Yearning for what I must say.

Say in words what I am feeling
Feeling in this early morn
Morn with my words ever forming
Forming… a new format born!

Born by chance I can’t deny
Deny ‘tis useless, I must try!

Copyright © Betty Janko | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |
Teacher, shall I write a sonnet? Must I?
When I’m not so sure of my poetry…
Shall I write a poem of fourteen lines?
In iambic pentameter –by me?

What shall I write about? What can I say?
In this sonnet which I must jot down now?
My sonnet should be about what today?
To write a great sonnet I’m not sure how…

Teacher, can I write this sonnet later
For I’m not sure of what to write about?
The teacher then takes my simple paper
And “you already did.” my teacher shouts.

‘Detention’ my teacher says, ‘for lying,’
‘But thank you,’ she adds, ‘for at least trying.’

 © Mariam Mababaya.

Copyright © Mariam M. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |
The quiet city, is still half asleep the morning moon's glow pierces through the sky, stars gather close, as if they were in heaps watching faint clouds, as they slowly drift by. What will become of this December morn? Will the birds sing happily, in the snow? Forests of green, snow still waits to be worn resting underneath, the morning moon's glow. The morning moon's glow, seems to shine so bright a cool, crisp feeling, settles in the air, nature awaiting, the peek of daylight to be held with warm, tender, loving care. Silently, I gaze through my big window standing in awe, of the morning moon's glow. Copyright © Cynthia Jones Dec.15/2005 This is the first time I've written a Shakespearean Sonnet. I was inspired by the brightly lit moon this morning.

Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |

Copyright © Ivan Petryshyn | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |
Rivers roll, across the lands
and their song is heard, by many ears.
While oceans roll, upon the sands 
and cry their crystal tears.

The tides will help to cleanse the earth; 
sand-showers; they are free.
Though ocean-lands, may have a wide girth;
the tides will find it, yes siree!

Water is the source of life; 
a precious, roaming gift.
A lack of water, produces strife
and sands, they cannot shift.

So pray, the rain, will always come.
To water’s music; life must hum.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |
We didn't start the fire
we just built an empire
of people who can't read, or spell
that's why they go to jail
and then die, and burn in hell.
Books like Fifty Shades Of Grey
now, everyone is gay.
We've become a broken down system
the 7 deadly sins,
can you list em'?
I bet you can't even read
you rather sit at home and smoke weed, 
that makes you're lungs bleed.
We need, 
more people like me
that write poetry,
can't you see
what has happened to our society.
2Pac for president
not some idiot, 
who isn't even a legal resident.
We like music
by artists who can't sing
now, we trash Stephen King,
what does this mean?
People go insane
when they look at the bullet,
in their best friend's brain.
We need more changes
and less gun ranges
shooting strangers
all this anger
putting other people in danger
is only cool for a fool
that's why we need to go to school.

Copyright © Blake Holland | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |
Cornish Sonnet

The new year, another day on life's road,
To be passed without the weight of regret,
Nor looked upon as a thing to decode.
While its meaning holds fair reason and cause,
To sit at the table of year's banquette,
And gather one's breath from life, to pause.

We'll celebrate with a joyous toast,
Shortly passed from a year's harvest season.
A diversion that reads like a sign post,
And make lists of changes now pledged.
Clarify with debate, subtle reason,
For promises made last banquette, alleged.

The new year, another day on life's road.
We'll celebrate with a joyous toast.

Contest..Cornish Sonnet

Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |
These are the spaces I confide
These are the narrow crevices 
These are the places I reside
These are the secure refuges

Upstairs attics with small windows
The quiet corners where I go
The hidden chambers no one knows
Downstairs cellars through secret doors

There I have my room for dreaming
Room to create and postulate
Pose questions and probe for meaning
Riddles and rhymes to contemplate

In there the world does not dictate
And there I have less room for hate.

Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |
20 February 2010

Sonnet of Poetry

All my thoughts are craving in so gently
Whether sonnet, rhyming, it flows boldly
Picket line of words is so picturesque
Library for epic with its index

Decipherable to relate its soul
Premature to judge but adorable
Luminary to every season rest
A gateway in romance to impart its zest

By its time and expanse it is boundless
Residence for poet and poetess
Admiring lenient style in their write
Originality pouring no trite

Poetry my getaway and refuge
To rest on your lap is such a prestige

7th place to POETRY PANORAMA contest
Sponsored by: Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S. 
Contest Date:  12/10/2010 12:00:00 AM    

Copyright © Noel Villarosa | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sonnet |

Has anything before been quite this bright 
Defining countenance within pure beauty? 
Its aura blinds the thirsting eye of light 
To knowledge of the plan in nature's duty. 

When in the orbit of magnificence 
A balm of Gilead will calm the soul; 
An essence so divine in permanence, 
Reminding us of nature's centered whole. 

Satori is not light objectified, 
It emanates from vessels bearing truth. 
So truth through beauty can be dignified 
If captured in created truth of youth. 

Ambrosia is my love's sweet gift to taste, 
Partake of it without a lover's haste. 

Copyright © tom mcmurray | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |

	I love to swap things with my friends.
	Today I’ve got a recipe
	to offer you. Please send me yours.
	Let’s make some “soup” with poetry.

	Mine starts with seven cups of fresh
	strict meter. Just one brand will do;
	that’s iambic pentameter.
	For spicy sonnet flavor, you

	add just a pinch of all of these:
	A B A B, C D C D,
	E F E F. Stir well before
	you add the special spice—G G.

	Add meats and veggies. Metaphors,
	hyperboles, and similes
	add robust taste to sonnet soup.
	Add more—whichever ones you please.

	Bring to a boil. Then cook on low
	to medium two hours. Before
	you serve it, taste. Does it taste great—
	or not? Does it need something more?

April 28, 2017    entered in Brian Strand's Premier May Contest: 25-line max, any topic or form

Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |
~~~ Songs My Soul Cried Ended the Psalms of Songs ~~~

Grace was inside my soul, I’d love his grace
Please my grace travel the world, find peace please
Face of darkness of the deep grace did face
Knees freeze and their prayers had no bowed knees

Risks ensnared the soul waiting for life’s risks
Perils times, beliefs lost liar’s perils
Frisk my soul falsehood frolic death did frisk
Morals abandon humanity; dung looted morals

Known and unknown lost all grace they had known
Peace was feared in the world, they hated peace
Alone with lost faith, their soul all alone
Ceased beliefs, lost their twin towers grace ceased

Kiss of hell walked the Earth, souls did kiss
Love healed hearts on the Sabbath that was love
Bliss with no respect, cold souls mingled bliss
Above, joy of life gone; hell now above

Songs my soul cried, ended the psalms of songs
Wrongs unforgiven, no life was dead wrongs.

© 2015 DiLinda Adams, All Rights Reserved

Fourth Shadow Sonnet – As you can see this does not meet the challenge guidelines in this pen. I added an extra stanza to keep the meaning I wanted to achieve. Please join in if you like; it has to rhyme, 10 syllable count and 14 lines to meet the challenge. However, if you just want to be creative please do. I cannot wait to see what you all are going to write about.





Copyright © DiLinda A. Adams | Year Posted 2015

Details | Limerick |
Can’t write me a good sonnet
It’s a bee in my bonnet
The words will NOT rhyme
It is such a crime
Others have gone and done it!

Piece of pie with the quatrains
Them beauties tickle my brains
I just cannot stop
The words they just pop
But dang sonnets sure are pains!

It’s clear that I’m no Shakespeare
But I try, now what’s the fear?
Might fall on my face
And be a disgrace
A laugh for many a peer!

And then there is the tanka
Help me, or I’ll just spank ya
Keep wanting to rhyme
I get stuck each time
Praise me, and I will thank ya!

Don’t let me start on haiku
I try with so much ado
That blasted third line
Just won’t turn out fine
You’re laughing now, aren't you?

For Andrea's Contest
Show me the Funny (Part II)

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |
~~~You Lost Your Heart and Soul, and Love Lost You!~~~

Seas called me back home to the Red Sea
Souls without a spirit, were the lost souls
Be their promise my soul don't let me be
Cold and alone underneath the dead cold

Hearts cried out a love-songs deep in my heart
Sand in my shoes, thoughts buried in the sand
Darts hit my heart; arrows of fiery darts
Can this be love in my heart, say it can?

Doves of peace and life, fly high my white doves
Life faded away no one saved my life
Love lost its will, lost all I did to love
Strife took derelict of duty was strife

Due process lost the law, with life's pain due
You lost your heart and soul, and love lost you.

©2015 DiLinda Adams, All rights reserved

Fifth Shadow Sonnet Challenge! – Please join in if you like; it has to rhyme, 10 syllable count and 14 lines, meets the challenge. However, if you just want to be creative please do so. I cannot wait to see what you all are going to write about.





Copyright © DiLinda A. Adams | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
seething mass of volcanic ash
erupting emotions, scream and shout
awesome magma, fires clash
i'm chained forever without

gnashing snarling vicious dogs run loose
but starved and meek, they trot behind
will follow or turn a course I choose?
perhaps some peace of mind i can find

but in the lead, strong and mean
seem to conjure confusion and strife
where am i going, the wind is keen
whip-lashed running, fearing life

i'm at the mercy of my passions sore
a great big hunk of my ass has been tore.

Copyright © James Gibbons | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sonnet |
~~Above All You Loved, Heaven is Above~~

Man made in the image of God, pray man
Woman, a rib of man your love woman
Can your love plan every thought, if you can?
Humans can pray for the lives of humans

Prime vigor, your heart felt life in your prime
Compassion understands, sweet compassion
Time ends days, life is wanting every time
Passions warm affection, loving passions

Life is living right, do you live like life?
Pride's deadly sins; love was not ever pride
Strife disputes harmony; bitter is strife
Brides don't cry, you're a rare most lovely brides

Love your man it's his life; you are his love 
Above all you loved, heaven is above. 

© 2015 DiLinda A. Adams, All Rights Reserved.

Seventh Shadow Sonnet Challenge! – Please join me. Poems should rhyme, and have an 10 syllable count and 14 lines to meet the challenge. However, if you just want to be creative please do so.





Copyright © DiLinda A. Adams | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose |
Who was the fair youth that Shakespeare wrote of? This young man whom nature loved far too much to create as a woman, so she endowed him with something “extra” so that he could be useful for “women’s pleasure”?

Who was this man- so fine, so exquisite, that the bard urged him to marry and to procreate so that he could leave behind a living testament to his surpassing beauty such that the world would bare witness to the voracity of Shakespeare’s description of him in the sonnets?

Who was he? Does sonnet 20 contain a definitive answer to this question?

“This sonnet has much of interest for those seeking to delve to the root of the nature of Shakespeare’s passion. Many have thought that it contains clues, anagrams and acrostics of the young man’s name. Supporters of Southampton or Pembroke could well see in this an effort to wreathe together the letters HE and WS, for Henry, or Herbert and William Shakespeare. It is perfectly possible that some such trick was intended, but very probably we shall not ever be able to verify whether it was or not.”

Who was the fair youth?
Shakespeare’s secret desire?
Mystery unsolved

Curiosity might just drive lovers of literature insane as they try to read between the lines.   Was this writer whose name was renowned even during his time, a lover of men, camouflaging this truth by marrying a woman, Anne Hathaway?  How will we ever know? Will this secret remain unsolved, an enigma that drives the lover of Shakespeare to distraction?

Who cares? Does it really matter what was going on in the poet’s life? Isn’t the beauty of his words magical enough to feed your soul?

Who is mentioned here?
Is it really me or she?
Mystery unsolved

I speak to MYSELF, and I speak to those who will read this… prose? (Yes, I know it isn’t a haibun because those aren’t REAL haiku) Stop the guesswork. Stop the questions. Stop wondering. Stop asking. Who did this poet have in mind when he/she wrote this? What does this post mean? Why the dedication to that poet? Is there something going on? Are they secret lovers? JUST ENJOY THE POETRY!!! We all have lives outside and inside of the soup. Live and let live. Unless the poet has a burden to dedicate a poem to someone, or to be explicit about who inspired him/her to write it, don’t try to reveal what was meant to be concealed. Period. We will NEVER know. Read the words, revel in the glow, and be content!

The words come to life
Sweet questions meant to entice
Mystery unsolved

Eileen Manassain Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |
Keeping—the Syllable Count
Knowing—How to Rhyme
This – is—What keeps is a—Sonnet
Annoying – Iambic—Line

Constantly – Chiming—and Gushing
Blowing—in Merciless – Gusts
And Yet—Still always reminding
Attend to it—While it lasts

Stemming from – Nature’s Rebellion
Or – Simply—Pressuring Air
Or If it’s Heaven—is Gentle
Just Quietly—Whispering There

Flying and Swimming—in Space
Gliding—with the – Utmost Grace

Copyright © Euginia Liapich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Haiku With Variations (Both Sonnet & Free Verse)

Haiku Number 2

hail rides air updrafts
raindrops crater planet's skin
your breath’s clouds, fall skies

May 12, 2016

Mother of a Winter’s Night – Shakespearian Sonnet

Her distressed sighs rise up like nascent hail,
(Tears blown to ever colder zones of sky),
Where frozen prayers see gravity prevail,
Release their pain on what they think is lie.

These raindrop tears sew cratered fields as well,
While farmer's labor washes out to to sea,
(Those tender roots that split rock - time's to tell),
But impact strips her lover’s legacy.

And with the fall as cold means leaves turn blue
New growth goes dormant and awaits Spring’s lease,
Confusion reigns as her breath’s clouds subdue
And haiku’s calmer images release.

If I am wrong let no one take offense
She’s not to blame, but my own lack of sense.

May 14, 2016

Poet's Note:
Please excuse the paraphrase of Shakespeare Sonnet #116's couplet.  :-)

Mother of a Winter’s Night – Free Verse

Your distressed sighs are the updrafts
That hurl nascent hailstones skyward,
Freezing tears colliding, clumping as they go
Into tortured spheres that could kill a horse,
Certainly knock shingles from the newest of roofs,
Or pound a field of sunflowers straight into the ground!

My vulnerable fields cratered by your tears,
Whether in their frozen form or flowing wet,
Top soil now enroute to the sea itself,
As if the history of its creation were of no consequence,
Tender roots that pried a farm from solid rock,
Swelling into cracks that are always present,
Turning stone to fertile soil.
The sea’s surface, that not so long ago
Mirrored a most gorgeous sunset,
Now a tortured and a rabid foam,
Laid to waste, craters overlapping craters,
Gone in an eye blink, all my love a non-event
In geologic time it seems.

Winter has come early as your breath’s clouds
Mask all reason and confuse me,
A bitter chill fills every corner of fall’s skies,
Even leaves turn blue and cannot breathe,
Oxygen sucked from the room we live in,
My only recourse is poetry and prayer.

May 13, 2016
Long Tooth

Poet's Note:
It was an interesting challenge to try to write the same poem three times and keep the meaning of the original haiku intact.

Copyright © Roof Missing | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
I’ve never wrote a sonnet in my life
fourteen lines  of iambic confusion
I’m not as poetically gifted
as Shakespeare or  Petrarch
because pentameters and quatrains
are perfectly not my style
and too  flat out antiquated for my liking

It’s rhyme schemes 
always oppress me
line after line
stanza after stanza
as if I’m never allowed
to journey beyond 
the black lines
while shading a picture 
inside of a child’s coloring book
with a box of  Crayola crayons

                                                                  Written by: Mia Pratt, 2016


Copyright © Mia Pratt | Year Posted 2016