Sonnet Love Poems | Examples
These Sonnet Love poems are examples of Love poems about Sonnet. These are the best examples of Love Sonnet poems written by international poets.
Is life not written on the passing clouds
Shapeshifting rumors on an errant breeze
Tailoring the moon’s mysterious cloak
The fire and ice of an unsettled liege
Is she not a master of words that deny
The meaning of heaven and earth and goodbye
Conjuring demons to lead us astray
An unending search for the why of the why
Wet sands erase the sun’s sepia smiles
Leaving us breadcrumbs of love and despair
The flicker of longing we no longer feel
An aching that asks were we really there
Clouds have no mem’ry save moonrise and tide
And life only moments in which they abide
Some folks I know achieve that beautiful approach
To compliment the fables they’ve been told
They’re able to fall down the rabbit hole
Which doesn’t mean they’re sleeping on the couch
Their Wonderland is always at the service
How did they do it, I don’t have a clue
This harsh reality, is it a wonder too?
If so, it’s not the book I’d like to purchase
Each wonder has its aim, so what is mine
Has never been occurred in my mind
I’ll be so very grateful if you tell
But I am in the dark, you cannot hear
And even if you do, you are not near
No wonder pushes me down through the well..
Is our true love was going anywhere?
After traditional local fun fair
Nothing does compare, with the teasing scare
Where we share, our mature teen age affair
Passing written notes, from pens we borrow
Wonder about future, unknown horror
Sunny blue skies? After we say goodbye?
Studying college courses are new try
Meeting new friends, saying, he’s a nice guy
Semester we wander getting credit
Attend class confessing "should have read it"
Or the other excuse, “I don’t get it”
Compass directs one to the campus bar
Healing wounds from the bloody mark grade scar
Is our true love was going anywhere?
After traditional local fun fair
Nothing does compare, with the teasing scare
Where we share, our mature teen age affair
Passing written notes, from pens we borrow
Wonder about future, unknown horror
Sunny blue skies? After we say goodbye?
Studying college courses are new try
Meeting new friends, saying, he’s a nice guy
Semester we wander getting credit
Attend class confessing "should have read it"
Or the other excuse, “I don’t get it”
Compass directs one to the campus bar
Healing wounds from the bloody mark grade scar
And making out with a long neck lone star
When love's chalice brims with passion's pain
from crooked hands now clenched within your mind
its wormwood draught is less the bile that stains
you spilled to cleanse the earthen floor of time
the rapture of this life now cleans my soul
as it bleeds deep in darker realms of shade
you drove the knife that cut the rose once whole
release my suffering heart as death persuades
this flower keeps no breath within its bloom
now drifting dark beneath the setting sun
flee from this world whose shadows I consume
as my heart dies, its death already done
a crumbled love lies dead inside my heart
buried beneath the lies as you depart
The slight Amish girl wore a plain bonnet
Her dress was plain yellow, nothing on it
Entirely covering body and limbs
No serendipity for her, no whims
Though in love with her debonair teacher
She was so demure, how would he reach her?
His picture under her pillow, she slept
Never dreaming – in her garden he crept!
She woke to the morn, felt somehow reborn
All doubts about her love, completely shorn
Skipping to school, her heart ne’er missed a beat
She came to class and flew into her seat
Seeing her love, she blew him two kisses
~ Two years on, they were Mister and Missus
***********
Well, OK. There are no steady feet in this poem, and neither is their reliable meter
Calling this a 'sonnet' makes me a bit of a cheater ~ gw
The eyes fall heavy, dropped like iron weights,
The crimson seal breaks open on the page.
A silent heart decodes its darker fates,
As lips unclose without a smile to gauge.
Out through the mouth, a stark emission flies -
A gasp of feathers leaves a bitter trace.
Black words like crows sweep through the quiet skies,
To peck the margins of a narrow space.
No whisper marks the blood the poets bleed,
Dark mulberry stained upon the sacred font.
I dip the quill to satisfy the need,
And trace the only baptism that we want.
Our drawn out paths were meant to run divine;
We cast the runes and walk the crooked line.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
A Laden Quill Pen in Hand
Lay a quill a pen in hand moulted feather of a swan;
Jest a written piece of verse wrote in stammering breath;
And important historical documented quest;
Wonders of wandering authors protest dawn;
Black it’s the chosen ink stirred upon drawn;
A sole paper now being presented to be dressed;
Far be it from the story to be mis pressed;
With writings of HIStory penned brawn;
8/21/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026© Italian Sonnet
I want no further thoughts of woods each day.
I hold all found and lost on one same eve.
The pangs of loss in memories replay.
From morn to night my heart does steady grieve.
As velvet satin she did clothe my soul.
Each spark in our embrace held love’s best ache.
That she did lay in leaves with me was scroll
My yearning heart had inked for loving’s sake.
In leaves we wove as two inside one dream.
Our passion rose beyond all we had guessed.
The bear I did not see before her scream.
I fought but dead in leaves she lay undressed.
Always red leaves amass around that bear;
Awake or not that view is my despair.
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ the marvel
of your ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ eyes ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
the ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ rose of your ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ cheek ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
I ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ regret
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ no flower ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
for ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ my despair.
¦¦¦ you are my hidden treasure
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ my cross my ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ pain
if I am a dog ¦¦¦ you alone my master
¦¦¦¦¦ let me ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ Autumn.
(Blackout of Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint by Federico García Lorca)
In your forest of green trees I am but a leaf
Floating in a spiral denim demise despite
My wish to hold on to love’s autumn breeze
Which plucks me unlovingly from sky’s delight
I’d hope to float into your endearing arms
To know your heart and be in your protection
Dreams deferred by realities word of charm
I can never learn of your amethyst affection
So I shall die in knowing not your touch
Upon fall’s orange hill of unclaimed love
A soul that's hungry and never well-fed,
is always searching for something much greater,
a great love whose meaning is ne'er misread,
or destiny whose time arrives much later.
In God and thee I find a hopeful fate,
a future that restores a quiet grace,
and moments in time's endless, flowing state;
where I embrace your beauty's radiant face.
But if the heavens and the stars above,
and all the world were drowned in seas of gloom,
my lines still live forever in thee, my love,
beyond end of days, beyond even doom!
If love transcends all seasons and all times,
then your spring lives on in all of my rhymes.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ winters shall besiege thy brow,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ beauty's ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ so gazed on now,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ treasure of thy lusty days,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.
(Blackout of Sonnet II: When Forty Winters Shall Besiege Thy Brow by William Shakespeare)
When luck and fortune flee from my own soul,
and then disaster overwhelms my hope,
and hunger consumes the meal in my bowl,
and poverty and debt hinder my scope,
then I wish myself more rich in spirit,
in wisdom and character more complete,
with God's forgiveness now to inherit,
and grace in place of ruin and defeat.
But I reflect on our time spent together,
that spring we made love under a domed sky
(those happy days seemed to live on forever).
Despair now gone, I sing and let joy fly.
As you now live on in my sonnet's measure,
may all men find in you time's endless treasure.
Your stunning beauty, which intensely burns,
warms all of earth's creatures and provides hope;
your glow emits from you by natural turns,
and your rays of life have fresh, boundless scope.
Your young dazzling face, radiant in form,
brilliantly shines like the raw, yellow sun;
and your halo, like an electric storm,
lights up all though your heart's meant just for one.
But Sappho, Tenth Muse, fades before your light.
Her verses dim beside your living flame;
your beauty makes her ancient words burn bright,
and poets find in you their truest name.
Let doubt be silenced by this single line:
of all the Muses, Rose, you are divine.