Sonnet Science Poems | Sonnet Poems About Science

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Details | Personification |

A Sonnet for Science

Science, you’re a cool, efficient fellow. Your counterpart, Humanities, is free to simply feel, while you, with need to KNOW, stir brightest minds with curiosity! You show us God-like strides in every field of your vast knowledge as you tempt mankind each century with wonders of your yield, influencing the world’s each greatest mind, practitioners who then unleash your power for good or bad into the universe. Arts dance while you grow mighty in your tower, like Babel rising. Will you be our curse? Your worshipers are not divine, and they - In raising YOU - may fell the world one day.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

The Astraunot - John Glenn

        THE ASTRONAUT = John Glenn
As certain as I see the world below
some things I'd overlooked, within my haste
come to my mind, and in it now, I know
we can't allow what time remains to waste.
What God's become, because we've let it be,
would change if only you'd see what I do,
spread out below, right here in front of me
a fragile sight--most delicate a view.

To see the whole thing, as it is complete,
the total world, big pictures only show,
is recognizing what's beneath our feet
was made by one who knows more than we know.

   My question's not to ponder as to how
    God made the world--but how to save it now.
           © Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |

The Mystique of Mars

The Mystique of Mars
Mars, fourth planet orbiting the sun, was once a harbinger of hostility and aggression. Aptly named after Roman god of war, with sister Earth, it shares the same star.
Red, resplendent orb gracing the night sky, like a whirling dervish, it artfully dances by. Two moons captured in a strong gravitational grip, Phobos and Deimos tag along on a wild cosmic trip.
From ancient times clouded in a veil of mystery, we've tried to delve into its origins and history. Is it home to an unfriendly alien race? Or is it just a cold, devoid of life, kind of place?
While much about Mars is yet unknown, perhaps, future generations will call it home.

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |


Curse this careless combustion of carbon,
a mindless muck-up of mankind's making. 
Fuels from fossil oil, the prime problem. 
Burnt in profusion, pollution producing

with lots of 'see o two' and 'aitch two o'.
We know about the burden of carbon
but where does all the water vapour go?
Just up into the air and then it's gone.

It adds to clouds where then it will condense
and give us torrential rain once again.
One more factor to make sea levels rise.
Ignoring this fact surely is insane.

But let us pretend there is no problem
and pass the mess on to our grandchildren.

Copyright © Tony Hargreaves | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |

Earthworms, Nature's Helpful, Hidden Tillers

Earthworms, Nature's Helpful, Hidden Tillers

Hidden underground, processing the soil
hundreds of billions just toiling away.
Relentless, in hidden earth eating toil
young boys oft harvest them on fishing day.

Earthworms work on but neither see nor hear
Nature sets them deep, with no hands or feet
They chew beneath the soil, all through the year
with rotting debris, all they need to eat.

Farmers need them, it is in Nature's plan
their lives, are designed to improve the land.
Increased crops feed many, including man
they turn soil without use of any hands!

Talk about being helpful,  Holy cow!
Farmers harvest more, where earthworms slow plow!


Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 	102

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |

In Support of Google's Self Drive Car

I know that I have called this a sonnet, and I recognise that it falls short of such an esteemed form, but it is my first attempt, please forgive me.


a black tarmac warrior 
a technology killing humanity worrier 
plotting a course at one hundred kilometres an hour 
his fatigued mind begins to wander 

they want to take away his freedom 
to replace his skills and wisdom 
superseding his brain with one of silicon 
technology supplanting humanity beyond his reason 

Isaac and I Robot showed the way 
when with technology protecting humanity we will rue the day 
while his mind remains resolute, his car begins to sway 
because humanity in control is the only way 

then in his old age, his is the first generation 
with no licence, but independent automated motion

Copyright © scott thirtyseven | Year Posted 2015

Details | Italian Sonnet |

Beyond the Grid


Whenever the truest edge doesn’t hold,
Another existence it does belie.
When causality is a broken line,
Unseen variable has cracked the mold.

Simple cause and effect gets in trouble
Abstruse patterns underlie life’s events.
Straight Euclidean angles and tangents
Reveal deep truth when they twist and bubble.

Infinite weaving of the light and dark,
That from which all matter derives its form, 
That from which all shades and colors are born,
Folding, animated by unseen spark:

Zero Point made of unbound potential.
Infinity in nothing, essential.


A cause contains more than it alleges.
If all you can see are random events,
Assume that it must be coincidence
Occam’s razor it seems has two edges

The surface, outer manifestation
The solid, visible three dimensions
Concentrate, more enters your attention:
Substance beyond the realm of sensation.

Bursting through material pretension,
What unimaginable things are hid
Beyond the visible Cartesian grid
To unfold from another dimension?

The depth remains unseen, passes us by
Except in dreams, when the mind’s eye can fly.

Hybrid Italian/Shakespearean Sonnets
Abba cddc effe gg (x2)

Copyright © Tom Quigley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Italian Sonnet |

Flight of the Stone Captive

Devonian birthed an innocent beach
down at the delta of a river great.
Compressed and oppressed by sediment weight,
sand became stone hidden far from life's reach.

A northern ice-angel came to impeach
the cloak of silt atop the stone's pate.
Leaving exposed in a fixed angry state
labyrinths and crevices bred of the breach.

But soon upon the sedimentary,
dampened and moist facing east and north,
spread verdant moss and ethereal fern.

The friendlier integumentary
fed roots of cherry and beech bringing forth
flight that ascended to Holocene's turn.

Ann Silverthorn 1995
This poem is about Panama Rocks, formed by a glacier, in upstate New York.

Copyright © Ann Silverthorn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |

Imagine - If It All Ends this Way

Imagine all those things we love so well - the scent of sweet perfume or baking bread - have disappeared; we’ve lost our sense of smell, and with that loss, fond memories have fled! We must learn to adapt but are still graced with an ability we can’t believe is soon to perish too - our sense of taste! All food now loses flavor, and we grieve. But the worst is yet to come, and what we fear arrives one day, and all the world must mourn, for not one soul is able now to hear! We stay with loved ones not to be forlorn and cling to them when comes the loss of sight. . . our final plight - to fade into the night. *The other day I watched a movie on cable called Perfect Sense. It inspired me to write this poem. Just think of it - to lose our senses one by one until the only thing left is to cling to a loved one. That was a very intense movie!

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

Last Breath

You were a shining Star.
Few of many in the sky.
Looking up so very high,
Not knowing why you are.

Close and set you are far.
Spinning flames  knot a tie,
I note a pattern just like pi.
Colliding with me you spar.

So burn it up and burn away,
Sow your heart upon a plane.
Chart your distance in the clay.
Burn it all up then call it sane.

The explosion in the sky is His death.
All burned up He has no last breath.

(R) Registered:  2013  Ann Rich

Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |


-- James Ph. Kotsybar

The zombies are coming; no one knows why –
no time to ponder such things anyhow.
Apocalypse gives us no time to cry.
Survival is all we can think of now.

They hunt for us in slow, relentless mobs
and push past all our barricades by force.
We stifle our screams and swallow our sobs
to realize we are just their food source.

There may exist a ruling, safe elite –
the privileged who caused our current woes
and watch us as we’re torn apart like meat –
but likely they’re no better off.  Who knows?

For us, they won’t sweep in to save the day.
To them, we never mattered anyway.

Copyright © James Ph. Kotsybar | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

My Best Movies

Along Came Polly and Final Countdown
are the two movies I have seen the most
both movies make me smile without a frown
I don’t watch movies that have any ghost

Along Came Polly is underrated
I think it’s funny and it’s really good
my two top movies are unrelated
and both of those movies I understood

The Final Countdown brings back memories
of a time when I was a younger man
when I’m watching that I relive glories
most memories I’ve tossed in the can

one’s a comedy the other’s sci-fi
nobody ever have to ask me why

Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

Sonnet 14, Part 3 of 3

11. They came to devour and sin.
I was briefed by a cornucopia of beings:
From Torchwood, ARGUS, SHIELD and their kin;
The Talamasca, The Shop and MiB Greens;
A BPRD agent who was burning in Hell;
The Syndicate, Consortium, Watchers and Trust;
The Illuminati brought a golden bell;
C.L.I.T.O.R.I.S., MHI (such knowledge robust).
The collider at CERN had opened the rift.
A nanoscopic tear in a monstrous dimension.
Worshipers, ever vigil, exploited that gift.
Now we must, utterly, curtail their ascension.
Then into the house she entered, shrugging.
There was a kiss and a hugging.

12. There was a kiss and a hugging.
Rescued from a cult in Ipswitch.
Her demeanor, ethereal, bugging.
She slept with a peculiar twitch.
My angst and attention will have to wait
For monster judication and portal castration.
Outside, we gathered, fearing our fate --
Awful things floated like blimps in formation.
By whatever means, we search in teams:
Arkham, Innsmouth, Dunwich and Salem;
CERN, Antarctica, the Nan Madol dreams;
Jerusalem's Lot, Beelitz-Heilstätten Asylum;
Transylvania and the Isle of Dead Creeple.
We worship a circular steeple.

13. We worship a circular steeple.
Time repeats when trapped in a vortex.
I'm driven to Brooklyn in a VW diesel.
A Tesla device in a Gravesend complex.
Bug-eyed tenants, oblivious, contemplate.
In the boiler room, it whirs and hums.
A competent team attempts to recalibrate
Until a big blobbish Shoggoth comes.
Then two ... and three. We scatter in fright.
The Shoggoths engorge and enfold the device;
But, not before a self-destruct is set alight.
The object destroyed; but, at such a steep price.
These things are here to herd the sheeple.
Soylent Green is made of people.

14. Soylent Green is made of people.
The rift at CERN has closed at last!
A major cleanup, and a mess of fecal.
Civilians clueless through a MiB blast.
The sun is out, the sky sublime.
I drive, antsy, anticlimactic, anticipating.
A return to normal space-time.
Sad goodbyes. Partnerships dissipating.
I hold her hand on the couch of gloom.
Stroking her witchy, Veronica Lake hair.
A warm wind kisses the flowers in bloom.
The radio's singing, cable's back on the air.
She hisses with a tooth-decaying smell.
Ripples in warm sunbeams dwell.

15. Ripples in warm sunbeams dwell.
A soul in flux begins to stall.
I meditate on a living well.
I pray the night may never fall.
A flicker blurs beyond my eye.
Softly she sits upon my knee.
A many-legged thing I spy,
My silent lady tries to flee,
It's a beautiful world we live in.
A hole in space needs plugging,
They came to devour and sin,
There was a kiss and a hugging,
We worship a circular steeple,
Soylent Green is made of people.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |

Soon all things will owe themselves to progress

Soon all things will owe themselves to progress
and nature will neither wane nor wax
accosted by bulbs and cog-laden streams.
Children in god-awful Christmas jumpers
gather around the May-pole to watch
the leaves become what they’re deprived of.
We are taught to fear puddles, duty free
purchases, and heroes speak in slant rhyme.
Thermodynamics washes the feet
of tired old gravity, entropic
kisses to keep loved ones close; parody—
if absence does what it does, we should leave
and never return to this place of progress
where bluebells can’t frost and starlings sing falsetto.

Copyright © Collin Lam | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

Sci-fi Fantasy

Sci-fi fantasy, please come hence to me.
Show me wonder,  space opera blunder.
Show the Galaxy, the worlds I must see.
A droid, a spaceship, through the stars I'll skip.
A rebel scout, to hear a wookie shout.
Oh if only! I had my fantasy!
I'd fire my laser. Wield my light saber.
I'd fly at warp speed. No rules would I heed.
I'd be a pirate. I would never quit.
Solo would envy. Faster than him, I'd be.
Even in the matrix, I'd get my kicks.
I'll take dystopian. You just say when.
Oh please! Oh please I beg! Bring forth to me.
My so well deserved, sci-fi fantasy.

-Angel Fatale-

Copyright © Ryan Tyler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |

Sonnet 14, Part 2 of 3

6. Softly she sits upon my knee.
I doze and drift as the radio squeaks
Of sunspots and the honeybee.
The cab wind whistles and creeks.
I sense monstrous, hidden beings
Attempting to open forbidden portals
To hideous, evil, inhuman fiends,
Elder gods and insatiable immortals:
Kassogtha, incestuous sister of Cthulhu,
Craving worship and flesh to devour --
Shub-Niggorath, Ghast and Gug, too.
And what of the Mi-go in space at this hour?
The cabby awakens my dream to deny,
A many-legged thing I spy.

7. A many-legged thing I spy,
That swiftly creeps the fences.
My silent honey starts to cry
As sleep restores the senses.
In designated, remote locations,
Misshapen, proto-human forms
Recite blasphemous invocations,
Starting Tesla portal storms:
At the Transantarctic Mountains,
To the Lost City of Pnakotus;
At R'lyea's nightmare fountains,
To Yemen, Babylon and Memphis.
In subterranean caverns at the LHC,
My silent lady tries to flee.

8. My silent lady tries to flee.
I force an Oxy down her throat.
The phone is dead; no net, TV.
A car horn sounds a bleating goat.
I sit with her on the couch of gloom.
It's a hard day's night to be resting.
Recalling a pleasant Beatles' tune
When a bump at the door ... testing.
Three shark-eyed strangers, swaying.
She has risen, bloated, not right.
They crash through the door, decaying.
I'm immobilized by greenish light.
They molest her with unspeakable sin.
It's a beautiful world we live in.

9. It's a beautiful world we live in.
That Devo lyric the sound I hear.
Repeating cycles of Yang and Yin.
Darkness consumes light in fear.
Wrought from multi-infiniverse string:
Voyager probes sing DNA pattern;
Kong is the eighth wonder world King;
Flying parallel the rings of Saturn;
Andre the Giant, Bismuth crystals;
Jupiter spins its great red spot;
Machu Picchu, Yellowstone thistles;
Red bananas and old Martian snot;
Pyura chilensis (living rocks loving).
A hole in space needs plugging.

10. A hole in space needs plugging.
That's what I saw; but, I must have been dreaming.
Alone. Angry. That vicious mugging.
A connection to others who can see this scheming.
Why now? Perhaps, a rare cosmic alignment;
A natural or premeditated dimensional break.
The solution is clear: capture and confinement.
With senses enhanced, I cause allies to wake.
Thankfully, most of the planet has yet to succumb.
She was taken by monsters, forcibly -- or, voluntarily.
I wait patiently, in misery, for smarter ones to come.
Save for insanity, the Summer day proceeds ... warily.
The room is crowded with new friends who begin:
They came to devour and sin.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |

Sonnet 14, Part 1 of 3

1. Ripples in warm sunbeams dwell.
From a sandy cocoon I wake and stir.
A floater in the blue does knell,
A dot, a stain, a blackened blur.
Am I the only one who sees?
No, the beach is afoot with myriad peeps.
The knell is deep -- a woofer wheeze.
A transient blot that fades and creeps,
Until it is vanished and we all take a seat.
I gather my belongings, pining for home.
An odd Summer chill swirls the waning heat.
A disquiet, discomfort invades my bones.
Driving like ants, mindless, small.
A soul in flux begins to stall.

2. A soul in flux begins to stall.
On the cool of an evening breeze,
We listen for the cicadas' call,
Lighted by the firefly trees.
"They're disappearing," so she speaks.
"The birds, the fish and the honeybee."
My disquiet returns with an odorous reek.
I shamble in for beer and tea.
We retire to the living room
To watch a passive, virtual play.
On a couch that sinks into the gloom,
A strange perception has its way:
An eerie change that has befell.
I meditate on a living well.

3. I meditate on a living well
Through oceans of calm and chaos,
To deep depths where Dagon fell.
My teeth bleed of paste and floss.
The news is grim, the weather bright.
Two automatons breakfast in business style --
My eggs and bacon, her vegan delight.
Commuting to work from our secret isle.
Yes, a change -- imperceptible, queer.
A singular irritation of the masses.
An impossible shift in the magnetosphere.
The populace don their blocking glasses.
Stubborn separation and a promise to call.
I pray the night may never fall.

4. I pray the night may never fall.
In an outdoor cafe, absent of her,
A fish-eyed woman loosens her shawl
To an odd-smelling wisp of ocean liqueur.
The coffee cools in Creamsicle light.
Up in the sky I spot crosses.
Still no sign of my better sprite.
Some things land in saucers.
The city appears dimensionally off.
An amazing woman crosses the street.
"What happened, my love?" I cough.
"I can't ... remember," in deadpan greet.
I hold her close, without reply.
A flicker blurs beyond my eye.

5. A flicker blurs beyond my eye.
Cafe 14 shrinks in the rearview beams
Of the cab where I breathe a sigh.
A curious fly flits hither and preens.
She has not uttered a sound since 14.
There are people in the street disrobing.
The scenery swells, offensive, obscene.
A mist on the Hudson rises, disturbing.
I see ... things on the Bridge,
Across bumpy roads in disrepair.
Odors pervade like a forsaken fridge.
The Isle of Coney is drawing near.
Into the darkness we three....
Softly she sits upon my knee.

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |

Rhyniognatha hirsti

Four hundred and eight million years or more
ago, these mandibled arthropods were alive
left years to languish in the fossil drawer,
unearthed again, just crushed remains survive.

These natives of what would be Aberdeen,
by nearly thirty million years, predate
the oldest bugs that anyone had seen --
New York’s silverfish must now abdicate.

Their body shape seems to exemplify
what we today can still identify --
ancestors of our modern dragonfly --
and that they had four wings we can imply.

What does it matter?  What’s it signify?
Once life emerged from seas, it learned to fly.

Copyright © James Ph. Kotsybar | Year Posted 2012

Details | Sonnet |

I Frame

I Frame 

As sure as I stand in the mixed of this garden, 
Glimmering gold falls to the earth by my call. 
Many are great and then some are a bit small. 
I release magnets clutching an obscene pardon. 

It is like balancing a beam that only I will harden. 
I wrap myself into a silver plated resilient shawl. 
Person place and time steadily climb up to maul. 
It’s a give or take rejection expected to turn on. 

One day ye shall see, 
My Moon half drawn, 
Ye see it was all of me. 
Your Sun will be gone. 

Only one Star shall rise up above my name. 
It’s a special place inside my heart I frame! 

®Registered: Ann Rich 2007 

Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sonnet |

Oh, Science

Oh science, unforgiving in its might,
Hast found its words in the mouths of many.
Stopping people, as they seem to take flight.
Halting those whose minds imagine plenty.
I ask those who hone science as an art,
Why must you crush our dreams and desires?
For we and our dreams, we never shall part.
You would not know a dream from a wire. 
As you prove to some, God does not exist.
You do not see all their hope torn to shreds.
Heads down faces low, their life gone amiss.
It’s amazing how you hold up your head. 
Science, I ask you to tread from my place,
So that I may still show dreams on my face. 

Copyright © Austin Alfano | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |



Continuous documents of life lived and gone
Lay buried beneath Earth’s various layers:
More precious than gold is petrified bone;
Save the questioning of the Creation Sayers.
Cannot dead evidence give life to truth?
Is there reason that Noah’s Arch must be fantasy?
Should we question the lesson of Ruth?
What religion teaches, science gives it creative reality.
Faith is nourished on belief in both seen and unseen;
Science, on empirical evidence of what was and now is:
Both relying on what is revealed of the beginning scene—
What daunting challenge to our pillars of intellectual tiers?
Is not the revelations unearthed by the faithful pursuit of paleontology
The resurrected evidence of that which has given rise to our religiosity?

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |

Ludwig Boltzmann

(Almost a Shakespearean sonnet :) )

The Second Law of Thermodynamics
Explained in terms of probability
And at a time with scientists frantic,
Statistically reprocessed entropy
H-Theorem, Boltzmann T-Equations born
Statistical Mechanics founded, too.
Connections with across divisions formed
A new branch of physics because of you.
And yet they criticized you for your works-
Demoralized to the point of suicide
You gave a whole section of science birth;
You’re more than favorable in our eyes…

Today you help design our vehicles!
Your contributions are unbelievable!

Copyright © Anna Wright | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |


Digital beauty encoded in space
Densely packaged with binary relays
A hybrid of English et en Français
Dreaming out loungey soft beats and delays
Super 45’s and magnetic tape
Transfers of energy through vintage keys
Trading the lead to entrance and escape
Analog phases alighting the breeze
Delicate spires of open finesse
Hushed drones that mingle in the subsonic
Limitless visions in limited press
Mixing it down into Duophonic
Sensual ribbons of Marxist ideals
Consciously rolling Motorik appeal

Copyright © andy thomson | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |

Harvest Time - the Redemption

There are no roots to see, not with our eyes,
that stretch from earth, umbilically below;
not even to the sun, to realize,
but there must be a  chord we do not know;

Are we not on a fruit, still ripening?
Perhaps we are the nectar from the tree,
Awaiting harvest time's great siphoning
When all are ripened; it's our time to be.

And we will be plucked from the path we're on
Around the sun, into a vat and pressed;
The vintage of Apopolictic Dawn,
Revealing vast unknowns, we've never guessed.

Then all our stuff of non-sense; all we thought,
Ferments into the past, already bought.

© ron wilson aka vee Bdosa the doylestown Poet©

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |

Dark Matter

The universe is mostly abnormal,
if we accept that physicists aren’t wrong
and gravity remains uniformal,
otherwise galaxies couldn’t last long.

They’d spin themselves apart, unless, unseen,
missing mass resolves the disparity.
Dark Matter is needed to intervene.
Though not found, it can’t be a rarity.
“The clusters are like icebergs,” they patter,
“since Newton’s math holds true, so should be served. 
There’s five times as much as normal matter,
or else momentum’s poise can’t be conserved.”

Though they’ll claim science is observation,
that’s often tweaked to fit the equation.

                             -- James Ph. Kotsybar

Copyright © James Ph. Kotsybar | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sonnet |

Space Hexsonnetta

He stands and scans the sky; 
he searches for a light,
as on that distant night.
"I didn't tell a lie -
I'm not that kind of guy,"
he swore, "I saw that sight."

He spots a flash of green;
it changes then to red.
(A dream his friends, had said!)
He photographs the scene,
to show 'em what he's seen -
too bad his dad is dead.

A laser beam is shot;
he dies upon the spot.

for Andrea's Hexsonnetta contest

Copyright © jack horne | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |

Gulf Oil Spill

Our ecosystem and wildlife can no longer be ignored
The devastation caused by the Gulf oil spill must vastly be restored

As anger and frustration surges across the Coast
The depletion of our environment, indeed we fear the most

Several past months, many lives have been erased
In the midst of these disasters, we can only look to faith

Now let us pay a visit to some underlying factors
Volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and other natural disasters

It was not in their intention for a high tech failed invention
Yell still they don't take into account the consequences of their actions

Efforts to contain this oil spill is more doltish than we have known
What more massive debacles can this single Earth condone?

Many local residents are now suffering from depressions
So think about what lies ahead, our future generations


Copyright © Rashana King | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sonnet |

Guitar Wolf

Straight out of Japanese science fiction
Leather-clad heroes of Jet Rock ‘n’ Roll
Hybrid linguistics flouting transcription
Noises that teeter the edge of control
Sunglasses shielding the radiant glare
Taped at the dots for sonic precision
A back pocket comb for styling quiffed hair
Smashing tattooed skin/symbol collisions
Shouting and kicking with fervid passion
Guitar-imagined gun spraying the crowd
Sweat-drenched and dripping in punk rock fashion
Bombarding the world with louder than loud
A futuristic, electrified skew
The final remaining wolves of Honshu

Copyright © andy thomson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |


Shall I believe that you are not like me?
A dog is but a wolf no longer wild,
and though you are a faithful friend, I see,
you are four-footed like no human child,
my boy; and though you answer to the name
the same the brilliant poet reprobate,
there somewhere in my brain is the refrain:
each species God did separately create.
But Wallace fed by spoon his little pet
orangutan, and longed to take her home
to England’s soil, where Darwin’s tree upset
conventional belief. And I must own:
that when your gaze unblinking holds my eyes
I know our likeness cannot be despised.

Copyright © Mark Clement | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |


Chimera’s are mythical creatures composed of two or more parts.
Sagittarius, by example, is shown: to be made of both man and horse.
But Myths are not found among the living, except in the mind and art.
For where is the mermaid and her siren song found? Nowhere, of course!

Fiction has brought us fantasies, though life is stranger than fiction, I think.
For, now they’ve found the butterfly is in its life, two very separate beings.
Two separate strands of DNA work at different times within this missing link.
One is for the caterpillar, while the other is for the butterfly’s wings to bring.

One must die, or so they say, to allow the metamorphosis to bring the other to life.
But if they say one is dying… I think not… perchance it dreams, or does it sleep?
Or is this like the Phoenix that dies in flames, to again be reborn amid the strife?
Next time you hold a caterpillar or a butterfly in your hand… think about this leap.

Imagine all the wonder of their secret lives, and all that this can mean.
Not only is it a miracle, but perchance a place where we have found our dreams.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012