Best Modern Sonnet Poems
Grim fog, I praise the shelter of your drear,
the sundown ghost morose not grandiose,
I walk alone - but, no -- with my despair;
a bittern bids a bitter adiós.
The breakers so in agony they gnash
and gnaw the strand with thrash of foamy green,
the tempest witch brings ironfisted lash
alas, the eye-of-storm epiphany unseen.
Free, free! The tern who flies in Gemini
above beloved peak and shore and wave,
sun-painted wings, away you went -- so spry,
so fierce! Bluebird pierced and buried in your grave,
..and the stars understand; a fateful fall into the sea --
Damn the deep! It’s jostle docile.. my scream to meet the scree!
Susan Ashley
June 29, 2021
~ Fourth Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mille 11
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Contemporary Sonnet
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
*bittern: any of several tawny brown herons
*scree: an accumulation of weathered rock fragments at the foot of a cliff
*a Modern / Contemporary Sonnet is a poem of 14 lines addressing any theme of the poet's choosing. It does not need to adhere to any set rhyme scheme, syllable count or meter, nor does it need to include a volta. The only true requirement of a modern sonnet is that it consists of 14 lines*
To forgive or not to forgive, that is the question.
When you are offended, whether real or imagined
by a loved one, a friend, or by someone esteemed,
do you confront the other, or resolve to be patient?
If by some stroke of luck, the offender apologized
but turns around, talking glib gobbledygook,
do you keep silent and still, looking cool as ice,
or do you tell it to his face, that he’s more than a crook?
At such time as this, or any time for that matter,
it is best to forgive whether he asks for it or not.
Do not poison your heart with cyanide blather;
bitterness can bother like a bat’s up your butt!
Forgiveness frees the offended from the devil’s deceit;
and makes you smile at the debtor, as his debt, you forfeit.
*First line draws on Hamlet's soliloquy, Act III, Scene 1; W. Shakespeare
A modern sonnet.
06 October 2015
Poem of the Week - October 11 to 17, 2015
As Midnight Moon Shines Upon Her Eyes
In a dream world where fantasies abound
shall be where my princess is found
Wrapped in her vision an angelic choir
cherubs singing her heart's desire
Her voice soothes every hearing soul
spreading happiness her daily goal
As midnight moon shines upon her eyes
a thought comes to me so very wise
Surely she could come to me down here
easing my hurt, wash away my fear
A soft gentle touch to my spirit renew
help me find a love any man is due
In a dream world such fantasies exist
your heart's desire, anything on your list
Robert Lindley
March 21, 2001
Note, 1/27/2015 - Modern sonnet, written when my soul was lost
and seeking the path back into happiness, back into a world devoid of misery, heartache and pain.
That night I bowed my head and asked for help. Best decision I ever made.
For in faith I had then put my trust , over that of my foolish vanity and insufferable pride!
Now looking back, I see the answer came ever so swiftly..
This poem comes from my "private collection" (intended for my children) after my demise and
is now presented for the first time for others to read..
That night I dreamed of a dark hair angel that came to me and helped me return to the world of the living.
Thats her in my picture given here. My wife now of ten beautiful and happy years!
Bountiful extra blessing of a beautiful son we now share !
Mother, I pray for your forgiveness as it was me,
I had to let you go and it never leaves my mind;
It was me who made the decision to set you free,
I was the one they came seeking for papers to sign.
There was nothing I could do to change your fate,
I would have done anything even given my own life;
The decision was so difficult and it could not wait,
My heart was stabbed with a blood-soaked knife.
With each gasping, breath you took in this world,
I kept asking is there nothing that can be done;
Oh I hated what had to be, it still twirls and whirls,
I asked the Lord why, why did I have to be the one.
Can you forgive me mother, for letting you go,
You were so kind and sweet and I loved you so.
____________________________
September 24, 2015
Poetry/Modern Sonnet/It Was Me, Mother
Copyright Protected, ID 09-7117-40-24
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
For the Standard contest, Forgiveness,
sponsor, Craig Cornish, Judged 2015
Fourth Place
Wind, your double essence is well-known.
Whispered summer breezes you exhale;
Then suddenly you turn. You surge and wail,
Expelling rage, you bluster or you moan.
Your brute relentless nature then is shown
For you become a cyclone, Hound of Hell,
Or show yourself a monsoon, squall, or gale.
Unquelled, a devil’s wrath with dust is sown.
As you intone, we’re stricken by your power.
Whipping wind, who thrashes us below,
You’re merciless until that final hour
Your vehemence ceases. Gust, I hate you so.
You scour Earth for those who next must cower.
Two-faced tempest, most indeed you BLOW!
For the NETTED by WORDS: HER SILVERED, TENDER WEBPoetry Contest
I used the theme found in "Wheeze of a Wind" which had been entered
by Nette in another of Cyndi MacMillan's contests:
Timeless Yet Contemporary, A Sonnet Thang
Note to Nette: My sonnet cannot hold a candle to yours. I think your contemporary one was better than my traditional one; however, I hope you can feel my anger about wind in it!! I just love how you did your modern sonnet for Cyndi!! BTW, I MISS you. Where ARE you anyway???
(Modern Sonnet)
What is this thing love that makes fools of kings;
that makes a once low and lonely pauper dance,
or the most cheerful heart now cry while singing
- yet ready for another awkward chance.
Is there anything in this mortal life
that thrice bitten, we reach out again
to where angels and demons dance with knives
and where pain seems too common an end.
I think not - I think it is our soul's gold,
a quest that is never, ever ending,
then once in our grasp, to no one sold,
nor value in a heart pretending.
I look upon this love and pray,
that never can I let it slip away.
From Ebbett’s Field, they had to move away.
This team sought greener pastures in LA.
What they needed was a little change of scene.
The team moved into a park at Chavez Ravine.
Back in Brooklyn, the boys had a good home.
Their fans didn’t want the team to roam.
A reason to move was the advent of jet travel.
Coast to coast flights were made practical.
The appeal in Southern California didn’t seem to stick.
The boys in blue were getting a little homesick.
To their old Brooklyn fans, they felt regrets.
New Yorkers became less than satisfied with the Mets.
Here’s a little news that may astound:
The Los Angeles Dodgers are now Brooklyn-bound!
Modern sonnet
December 22, 2012
The Virgin and Child
Matrix of allusions.Its intersections
dipped in the beckoning depths of chaste dark
to grow limbs like any other. To mark
a departure into a great mission.
Life dipped in a suave and rare medium
of strokes and streaks . Who would not sense
in the vision-flatness an equilibrium
of solidity and reassurance.
The harboring grid of hardened faith
is crowned with thorns of colored distractions
without the telling placenta of birth
but still-lifed in womb-dark meditation
I ‘m the virgin, the lactating breasts, the birth
I ‘m the baby of the resurgent earth.
Form: A modern Sonnet, attempted.
**Based on the painting “ Virgin and child” by SOFONISBA ANGUISSOLA
S.Jagathsimhan Nair,
26th Oct 2013.
Here and now, I sweep away stress of day
and breathe in contentment for only myself.
Finally alone, as thoughts come alive, I stay
awake, smiling back at framed faces on my bookshelf.
No counting sheep in the still of late night peace,
for a quiet house sleeps and children, tired
from busy day of play, are wrapped in fleece
dreaming of yesterday's Christmas. Inspired
by the warmth of memories and family, I write
this poem in the moment with my little pup
resting at my feet, husband snoring deep. Only light
coming from my small lamp and the stars. A cup
of hot tea on the nightstand is my only friend
when I write in the hush of the day's dreamy end.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 12/26/14
*Modern Sonnet
Bitter tears cascade down my face,
hearing that you had taken your own life.
Another teenage tragedy, I’m in dire straits -
never again will we hear your playful laugh.
The baby blues crept up on you so gradually
leaving a tiny baby without a mother.
We read about these terrible tragedies ….
Someone’s father, mother, sister or brother.
Your baby will have not be left alone,
grandparents have willingly taken her.
Now she is living in a brand new home;
their lives are starting a new chapter
Forgive me were the last words you said
Death was the price you paid
Contest- Forgiveness
Sponsor - Craig Cornish
My first attempt at a 'Modern' Sonnet
05~10~15
Oh, you’re a club-tie glad-hand social climber
If e'er there were one, Milo Minderbinder
A meticulous craft, your quest for domination
Your smile so bowed, so proud of your lofty station
Your well-known carnival of carnal knowledge
A cornucopia of knowing carnage
The next home remodel, a newer, younger model
stole into your wine cellar, then uncorked the bottle
The old ball and chain got chained, and bald, and old
From divorce, then cancer, then down the six foot hole.
But none will sue when you’re under your newest Nun
God’s Son knew, nothing new under the sun
Skipping blithely through fortune’s emerald fields
Shh! Do you hear karma at your heels?
5/30/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
Revised 10/1/24
"Modern Sonnet"--couplet rhymes, loose with the metric feet
Wicked Love (Modern Sonnet for Contest)
Your step was in the doorway, sunlight dancing in the air
Like a spark within an earthquake,
I’m a fool without a fear
Who sent you to my arms that day, a curse and smile, a tear
Was it written on a page a thousand years and more
To break apart my true bound heart
Destroy my world of careful plans without a second glance.
Naked in the dirt I fell-- a child without a chance.,
Your laughter never falters, never flickers a remorse,
Chasing money f-cking glory, is your selfish course.
A golden life, it trails you, each step -- a new reward
And, leaves behind, a trampled life, a frayed and broken cord.
But some old gods smile out at me through green and golden wood
And life returns with sweetness to reveal a world of good.
You
and I,
tried so hard
to make us last,
and we came so close,
now didn't we sweet Babe.
With love and laughter we fought
and it worked for all those long years.
Heart aches came and loneliness followed
but strong arms can't stop the ache and sorrow.
In early morning light the time slipped through our world
like flowing candle wax in joy filled moments. Tears,
they came, but we kissed them away and love remained.
From dawns first blush until dusk faded in the night,
as we held each other, our passion burned so bright
at times it felt like the very air would ignite,
but like the morning star that soon passes from sight
our flame of desire flickered, filled with words of spite,
as time meanders past and nothing feels quite right.
The candle wax hardens leaving candle sticks stained
with the pain of lost affection and new found fears,
and our garden's flowers faded, withered and curled.
Now lying beside you leaves me breathless and cold,
a wickless mound of wax, no more love do you hold.
Through years of devotion the doubt lingered,
we were too different, you and I.
I could not be what you needed
though I promise that I tried.
Gone is the bright twinkle
that lit your brown eyes
and like your smile
now our us
is no
more.
04/15/2018
Two Etherees split by a Modern Sonnet (Very loosely Iambic Hexameter -not Alexandrian- with a unique rhyme scheme).
I am shattered you do not forgive me...
Turn towards me, darling
and don't turn on your heel.
Call me again your Sapling...
I did not mean to upset you
or shrill out a parting of the ways.
I would turn back the clock if I could
and fall into mode of sunray.
Your Sapling can't be good all the time...
How many can do that?
Occasionally we girls go off the line,
and we can do without men's brick-bats.
Anyhow, I know you'll come round
even by tonight, I'll be bound.
----------------------------------------------
Modern Sonnet
9/22/2015
Contest - Forgiveness
Sponsor - Craig Cornish
A Win
The priest loved his flock in Sicily ...
Easter and the Mass were fast approaching.
The church was decorated prettily.
On it, and his flock, priest was doting.
He made sure he knew people by name ...
Some he had known for years.
His favourite was one who was lame -
So sad ... the priest was often in tears.
Now, this lame man had a fit in the church
In the middle of Easter Mass.
The timing could not have been worse,
And the rest of the Mass was dashed.
To the man, the priest kindly offered his house.
The man came quietly, like a church mouse.
-----------------------------------------------------
A Modern Sonnet
10/23/2015
Contest - In the name of love
Sponsor - Shadow Hamilton
A win