Sonnet Desert Poems | Examples
These Sonnet Desert poems are examples of Desert poems about Sonnet. These are the best examples of Desert Sonnet poems written by international poets.
West heat waves blow with sand,
With lack of water verdure can live,
Without the sight of man on land
Where cloud rain only in fancy leave.
The place Thar Desert that I interpret,
There noone can sleep in open
If anyone then next day get sandy pile greet,
Noon heat at much ,dazzle eyes cruel sun.
On name of vendure only thron bushes get,
Lack of water must make your tongue dry,
Neither tension of rushes nor traffic late,
Only see scorpion,sneak and sperrow fly.
Yet,that beauty in sandy face
Not in city'S clean stressy race.
Moonlight glows softly across desert sands
as swirling winds shape dunes with clever hands
as a terrain sculpted like barren shores
whose waves were not marred by footprints or oars
No lush oasis in this seaside scene
These Far East grains hold no date palms of green
nor cool stream to quench a traveler's thirst
It seldom witnesses rain from a cloudburst
Here, the moon holds no sway with ebb and flow
Scorpions will not drown in an undertow
Sweltering heat would blister my pale skin
while I'd pray for the sight of Gunga Din
Devastating heat can impose great harm
This sultry weather gives cause for alarm
Stiff, stifling, arid air: snakes, lizards, sand,
and cactus. Scorched red rocks and baking skin.
My canteen empty in a barren land -
my romance landscape till first love walked in.
One summer evening under moon's cool beam,
the desert's xeric heat no longer cursed.
Lazing with friends. A pool... in walked my dream.
First glance: a tall, cool drink to slake all thirst.
Then as her eyes met mine, my blood ran warm.
My hand touched hers; both temp and pulse were raised.
In time, slow dancing - two bodies conform,
and with that first kiss, fulgent flames soon blazed.
The desert heat from which I'd just emerged
blithely returned, as first love's swelter surged.
Spans (Inspired by Percy Shelley's "Ozymandias")
If one pursues the desert, smooth and vast,
They will not glimpse the history buried there.
The monuments constructed did not last,
Save by poet’s pen upon paper.
A fixèd mast protruding from the spans;
The endless stream of time will wear all down,
Like flowing sand within an hourglass,
For colors mix inexorably to brown.
So irony has come with human life,
The closed events that circle round and round,
As goes delight to sadness, joy to strife
And all of history lost to passing’s glare,
Emotion, insight, love, belief, despair,
Forever locked in rock’s unyielding care.
to the Peach cobbler My Desert Favorite- -
YUm!!! peach cobbler, you inspire me to eat.
How I love the way you’re juicy and sweet,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Dreaming about the huge seed hard and tight.
Let me compare you to a dreamy prune?
You are more beamy, creamy and solid.
Deep sun heats the gleamy peaches of June,
And summertime has the seamy pholad.
How do I love you? Let me count the ways.
I love your bright fuzzy peel, stems and eye.
Thinking of your steamy stems fills my days.
My love for you is the horrible high.
Now I must away with a pholad heart,
Remember I sweet parts words whilst we're apart YUm sweet tart.
12/27/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Water and Gold
by Michael R. Burch
You came to me as rain breaks on the desert
when every flower springs to life at once,
but joy's a wan illusion to the expert:
the Bedouin has learned how not to want.
You came to me as riches to a miser
when all is gold, or so his heart believes,
until he dies much thinner and much wiser,
his gleaming bones hauled off by chortling thieves.
You gave your heart too soon, too dear, too vastly;
I could not take it in; it was too much.
I pledged to meet your price, but promised rashly.
I died of thirst, of your bright Midas touch.
I dreamed you gave me water of your lips,
then sealed my tomb with golden hieroglyphs.
Originally published by The Lyric
A Liquified Desert
A peacock glissades as a trail triggers,
an ambience of turquoise and chartreuse,
for it sparsely spreads as its glass mirrors,
neath a ceiling stain aquamarine blue.
Ghostly strands of lit fingers, it searches,
for soulless wanderers, offers a chance,
so new souls will exist, former merges,
exposed to a new presence in a trance.
Memories of beating, now heard aloud,
with their eyes wide, they behold, hesitates,
they see a beige wavy floor, glossy shroud,
it's a liquified desert, it's a dusk straits.
Charioteer cupids, gallops cherubs,
Flies souls with anointing doves, to terras,
2019 June 10
*1st Place*
Poetically Me THIS PICTURE WHAT CHA' SEE
~~James Edward Lee Sr.
Picture: #1
The red-throat trawled me to a shanghaied shore
then left me raw in split-sedated state.
A sense of morning meant the lamp lit late
and when I dream I taste a little gore,
but it was peaceful there, upon that shore.
And how I prayed it would disintegrate.
And for the waters to evaporate.
And for the dark to dredge the ocean floor.
And all then did. No one should be allowed
such icy fun: to hear whimpering whales
aware of demise, crushing coral, proud
no longer. But then the fisherman’s sails
at first glint of sun. The hawk circling back
to this, my tundra, that the desert fails.
The desert holds a certain beauty rare.
A little rain will make the flowers grow.
For sleeping seeds that lay there dormant bare
can rise up showing wondrous colors so.
For ever changing dunes that wild wind blows
against the lodgings made of clay and stone.
Men hide in homes from screaming sirok woes,
their beasts cringe low in fright and softly moan.
A lonesome place of spikes and cactus kinds,
where rattlesnakes do seek for pry at night,
where dry and sandy gully plays and winds
a steep path going nowhere toward the right.
To stay on beaten tried path seems the way.
Another by your side if we do stray.
His life’s creations in the desert rise
Magnificently over sage and sand,
Each one beyond the reach of human eyes,
In lonely, quiet vigil does it stand.
But why must he create his sculptures here
Seen only by the cactus, snakes, and sun?
The answer in his younger days seemed clear,
In latter years that logic comes undone.
“Art justifies itself”, or so he’d say
“I need no human praise to do my best”;
He now believes art should be on display
That others’ lives might be enriched and blest.
So now he humbly builds his statues nearer,
And hopes they’ll serve as prism, lens, and mirror.
Desert Of Overcast Blues
I walked in a desert of overcast blues
sandy undertow wicked and laced with red rust.
Old , worn-out and sad are my feeble trekking shoes
yet onward with flowing tide travel I must.
Treading bastions of false hope and scary tales
heaped with desperate tales I did so want to hear.
Oceans of sweet soothing lies bigger than blue whales
and me unable to stop running from my fear.
Where scolding shadows cry out my deepest regrets
red dust pulling me down into a darkened pit.
There hellish madhouse laughs and wins all futile bets
cutting into my lost soul with every hard hit.
Longing for days, when mere boulders stood in my path.
Begging relief from night's cuts of demonic wrath.
Robert J. Lindley, 5-03-2016
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables: 168
Total # Lines: 18 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 124
Sonnet, 12 on 12....
Inhale the sage-scented breeze liaison
Jagged peaks’ sharp ebony silhouette
Crescent moon, Venus, ornaments of dawn
Crystal desert morning never forgets
Afternoon visit, charged mind of the clouds
Thunderstorm downdraft, its cleansing ozone
Searing sun hides behind navy blue shroud
Embraced by your presence, never alone
Vermillion cliff sunset, eternity
Spirit of the wild, you are the portal
Stretching out to you, encompassing me
Melt, intertwine, these moments immortal
Rejoining the pack, reach inward to hold
Eternal caress of the desert soul
4/18/16
Flashing lights and colorful neon
illuminate the municipal oasis.
The metropolis at night will beckon.
There is no other attraction like this.
Houses both on the strip and downtown
say to all, “Come in and take a chance”
The town is like a goddess in a gown.
Behold this marvelous place at first glance.
Come on down from the mountains and hills.
They have tables and machines galore.
There are shows and restaurants for your thrills.
They have all you want, and so much more.
In the Spanish tongue, it means “The Meadows”.
Like jewels in a black velvet case, it glows.
Las Vegas, Nevada, USA at night
Hot. . . white hot Sahara sand am I.
Turning, ever turning, how I burn
white. . . hot white beneath the desert sky.
In search of sweet relief, for you I yearn,
shifting, ever shifting, I’m a dune.
Each particle of me is filled with heat.
I roll beneath the sun of afternoon,
ever passion parched though time be fleet.
I’m drifting to the brink of mad desire.
Cool. . . blue cool, sweet pool that I pursue-
mirages that appear quench not my fire.
Blue. . . cool blue, my remedy is you.
I’m half a continent; my love is vast.
Reveal yourself, Oasis, at long last!
For PD's Your Best Love Poems ((old poems only)) Poetry Contest
Created, desolated, resurrected and even in reverse,
You are a transformation under a Sun drenched day.
Beckoned or heralded you climb above a beaming ray,
Bristles of your hair shall glow and many are perverse.
Shuffled, hurdled, corner-stoned and even immerse,
You are a salvation upon a Mountain leading a way.
Stripped or naked you run below an endless cache,
Light inside of you shall outpour so all will disperse.
The collectors shall find,
Lost on a course in time,
Many stranded or behind,
Many with no unjust crime!
Jacked up, a ripped off, a maniac or just downright a true blue loon,
Still remaining is a red flaming shield up under a sacred desert Moon.