Sonnet Simple Poems | Examples
These Sonnet Simple poems are examples of Simple poems about Sonnet. These are the best examples of Simple Sonnet poems written by international poets.
Contemplating as a thinker thinking,
self-appraising rate of our vibration,
we dwell not in awareness unblinking
but ego distanced from God’s creation.
It’s not about knowing but becoming,
whilst resting in tranquil, blissful repose,
synced with the gong of Om within drumming,
witnessing how we so metamorphose.
If we see God as another object,
flawed and deluded is our perception
but with ego dropped, bliss rising unchecked,
one with oneness, we evade deception.
Melding with the energy field itself,
beyond space-time we transform as the Self.
O’ dear, I learned today you’re spoken for;
I asked the question, got the answer: “no”.
Ayayaye…but, considering the blow
wasn’t so bad, I’m glad I tried to score.
Oh dear,—(I must admit)—you know what’s more?,
you’ve snatched the beauty right out from this low
world; o’ diamond, why must you hoard it so?
All other charms have lost their glow, they bore
me now…I hadn’t grasped what beauty meant
’til I had seen your radiant strutting gait. ?
Nevertheless, I do not write this sonnet
that I should have something to bemoan it;
Rather, I’m thankful for the sort of fate
that sends me for a spiralling ascent.
If just a hello is all you can say
To brighten what might be someone’s bad day,
Then that’s what you do. You say a hello.
And give what you can that all men might grow.
If one little smile is all you can give,
To make one life a bit better to live,
What else can you do but give them a smile,
When such a small thing might comfort awhile?
All you might meet in one typical day…
All of those people you might pass on by…
All you might touch as you walk on your way…
Do they think of you? Do they wonder why?
A simple hello. The least you can do.
It might one day make its way back to you.
Observe the modern generations walk
on by; they suckle from the plastic teat
of coffee cups, and stumped by stamping feet
they shamble unaware from flock to flock.—
infant adults—if earnest I may speak;
Look there: one loops in circles (a grand feat!)
and, as if an ornithological suite,
the gaggle shuffles behind,—“squawk squawk squawk!”
Yikes… I suppose that if I ran at ‘em
they’d scatter faster than frightened pigeons.—
Wouldn’t even need to make the barest noise,
merely the sight of a threatening poise
is enough to disperse their religions
(yes—religions—phony, false—“fun”:—numb!).
The quest of life, it is no certain thing,
No circumstance assurance brings of bliss.
So many thoughts, so very few take wing;
The hit or miss is measured more by miss.
Shall happiness take hold when we gain gold?
The heaping up of stuff shows little worth.
The misery of wealth is too well told;
Tranquility is not composed of earth.
Does then it lie in that we wish to do,
The voyages of life in deed and thought?
But, O, the tedium of all that's new!
It's not upon the breeze that calm is brought.
The joy of life is not a thing we find,
It is a choice we make within the mind.
So unadorned is nature's gift to us
with flawless forms of animals so pure.
Their coats and faces stand out with no fuss,
as nature does provide inborn allure.
So unadorned- no false external signs
to re-enhance the beauty they behold:
their coats wrap them in intricate designs,
and perfect faces stand out clear, and bold.
Conversely, humankind must always dress
in clothes adorned to shield and to display,
and groom our faces- shave or meet the stress
of painting eyes and lips in the best way.
Oh, for the gift of beauty unadorned-
without our tiring ways to be adorned.
Imagine head capped with currents of bliss,
enabled by God’s magnetism at play,
ushering rapture where nothing’s amiss,
renewing itself thus, day after day.
In the vast, vibrant void, soul makes its stand,
discarding every conditioned belief,
free from fear fetters that we understand,
silence alone lets us turn a new leaf.
Soma nectar drips, our attention grips,
that the bubble of delusion may burst
and as refrain of bliss plays on our lips,
becoming the flame itself, ends heart’s thirst.
Oh worthy monk, as we be to become,
within us glows light of the central sun.
If you thought it kind, or perhaps naught
I'd write you a fine sonnet.
If it please'd I beg, on bended knee
a spirited song, or dutiful etheree..
Alas a fly in pudding lies, a mote in sorrow'd eye
a snag in all best laid plans..
Tea time's nigh, so come sit beside
and hold my hand.
Carried away by the ripple of time,
on the enigmatic canvas of space,
our deluded mind, feels within a chime,
signalling presence has no goals to chase.
Déjà vu tells us time does not exist
and formless awareness as our essence,
becomes the truth, when silence we enlist,
revealing God’s light as our quintessence.
As scriptures say, when our eye be single,
here and now we become the all that is,
delighting as polarities mingle,
holding firm sconce of love in vibrant bliss.
Simply watching each thought ego begot,
poised thus in silence, we become self-taught.
path any, what is pointed to is this
simply enter silence, stop flow of time
that God’s magnetism may fill us with bliss
and vibrant heart heeds the sublime love chime
relinquishing each conditioned belief
softening attention and gentling touch
on its own consciousness turns a new leaf
breath by breath thanking God ever so much
layer by layer, the false falls away,
revealing our true Self as divine light,
rapturous in bliss mists by night and day,
holding firm sconce of love by day and night.
let not narrow ego cravings befool ~
love’s the only rule in this earth life school
If I'd Seen The Hungry Dino, I'd Not Be Dead
Stars spits light and belts, grows old and nobody cries
Universe slyly winks and eternity sees truth prevails
Earth vomits from Hell's pits and everybody dies
Justice opens eyes to say, life is crap-lost my scales
Unmeaning light its dying shadows scatter all about
The half-dead king rose from napping to see graveyard ghouls
In distance, queen was partying as fairies shout
Jack was drunk working with his imaginary tools
And the blind princess yelled, " Hells coming" with a shout"
Caveman said, I want very nice juicy dino steak
His wife laughed and said, "Then kill one would you please,
Last time you came home drunk, saying sorry my mistake"
He replied, " Hun, I was sure I'd get one with ease"!
Aint that the sorry truth ghost in the corner said.
"If I'd seen the hungry dino, I'd not be dead."
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
Nov. 2nd 1973
Note. This poem was created for my nephew Chad, to read Monday in his third grade class.
A simple sonnet
The tramp, who sits on a low ledge, near the entrance of the
modest supermarket that sells basic food fruit and vegetable
and to my surprise, has a good selection of wine, is ageless
The tramp- perhaps a wrong word- has a dark brown outdoor face, his hands a dark brown too, and the rest of him is covered in an old jacket and denim trousers.
He is reading a newspaper, eating from an open packet of biscuits and drinking from a bottle of water, our tramp doesn't do begging, but shoppers often give him foodstuff, apples and
bananas; which he acknowledged with a thank you but without servility; exudes a warm friendliness that soothed the many struggling with everyday life.
There is talk of closing down the relic from the eighties, after Christmas when the nice tramp disappears for a few weeks
It gives my heart pause and a deeper sigh
when the wind asks the leaves to dance for me
as the birds fly high, no clouds in the sky
and white butterflies move rhythmic and free
so peaceful and calm on days such as this
the air I breathe with a sky ever blue
when life around will fulfill every wish
reasons are plenty when the world feels new
the soft soothing tones that render my soul
to hear the birds sing from my heart's request
the notes from each songbird will make me whole
caressed by Nature I begin to rest
I'll close my eyes on this beautiful day
so I may sleep while the birds sing away
5/27/23
With hands immersed in suds and water warm,
I stand before the sink, humbled vassal,
To plates and dishes, grease and grime the norm,
My task to cleanse this polychromed passel.
Each cup I cradle with a gentle pinch,
Their curves and corners, every angle blessed,
Rinse them speckless, my soapy palm a winch,
A chore completed, my service at rest.
For though this labor at face is mundane,
It's in the simple things we find our grace,
And so I wash each dish with grateful strain,
And let their gleaming surfaces erase
The chaos and the clutter of the day,
A small but satisfying task, I say.
Little one, you fight so to stay awake.
Believe me when I say you need some rest.
Just close your little eyes, for goodness' sake.
Of Life's simple pleasures a nap's the best.
To snuggle beneath a blanket so warm
And just let life go on without a care.
Why struggle with the ever present storm?
Just rest your mind here in this comfy chair...
Let minutes, even hours, pass between blinks.
Later you can rise when you're refreshed.
Everyone's entitled to forty winks!
We all know what it's like in feeling stressed.
Here's the clearest difference in our age gap:
You hate them but I'd love to take a nap.
2/13/2023