Philosophy Sonnet Poems | Examples
These Philosophy Sonnet poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Philosophy. These are the best examples of Sonnet Philosophy poems written by international poets.
Ill fate I call, luck lingering on chance,
Others may call it law of seeds and sprouts,
And yet others, destiny's dappled dance,
A thing when duly happens what use doubts?
And karma clings to catch up with the life
To dish out platefuls of pickled fortune,
Or life of frustration, of sour fruits rife,
Dark rainy clouds or sunshine of mid June.
Life has to learn to live with Providence,
Which, like a river flows as is meant to—
To meet ocean— how making little sense,
For, destiny leaves blueprint nor a clue.
Life traces no straight line in curvy space,
Rejoice still, no atom seems out of place.
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Sonnet | 05.11.2011 | destiny, life, luck, philosophy
Note: If something happens, how and why are matters of philosophical debate. But something happens, we see it, where are the doubts? Remember, even chaos has at its core some method in madness. One has to live in a curvy-linear world of no straight lines.
You want to know the downside of Aquarius?
Just ask the folks who weren’t in Noah’s Ark,
or check out Jethro Tull and Linkin Park.
The paths we tread are manifold and various,
as Lewis learned by teaming up with Clark –
and now the Eightfold Way reveals the quark.
Is ‘humorous’ the equal of ‘hilarious’?
Is ‘mini-skirt’ the same as ‘cutty sark’?
About as similar as ‘bite’ and ‘bark’.
We take from this that language is precarious,
quite unreliable (if not nefarious):
don’t trust a man who says he’s made his mark.
Instead of “it is written”, “it is dark”:
for I have felt the sinews of the shark.
Destiny, oh destiny, why hide thyself from me.
Come out, come out, for all to see.
A life filled with struggle, then at last a surprise.
Why not reveal now how I self-actualize?
Have I no choice of my destination,
How I’ll proceed in my maturation?
How many ways could there be?
Or outcomes to this mystery?
More than one, surely a few,
Leave some things to chance, it’s the least you should do.
I want to have challenges and growth each day,
A purposeful life as I travel my way.
Life’s surely not over, with just destiny
My soul longs to live for eternity.
As obvious as it may seem,
Our higher life we must redeem.
To get full value, its true worth,
It’s not a given at one’s birth.
First acknowledged, then understood,
Overcome ego, become good.
Use your energy to create,
Our deeper thoughts our true estate.
To share the truth that we have gleamed,
Our higher self must be redeemed.
Legacy: our thoughts repeated.
Shows our life is not completed.
Life goes on; it is eternal.
The body: only a kernel.
Within the secret sacred shrines of any rose
Dwells a well filled with fountains of a unique scent.
This scent pervades the florescence as each bloom glows.
Though the rose may fade, its scent endures without end.
The fragrance is not on her peripheral skin.
This aroma arises from her spotlessness.
Facing each thick and thin of the seasonal spin
The fragrance finds the inmost shrine's bottomlessness.
My soul is the fulcrum of the scent of goodness.
It's from here that the scent spreads in acts of compassion.
With the unending showers of divine kindness
The stream of scent secretes and flows with dispassion.
Could any rose forget and forsake her fulcrum?
It's towards the lesser-known scent, I Am a Pilgrim.
Bright orbs that shimmer, secrets yet untold,
They pierce the dark and trace the fading light.
Through love and loss, their silent stories hold,
A world within each gaze—so soft, so bright.
They search the hearts once open, now concealed,
Reflecting dreams that linger, lost in fire.
Some truths they guard, while others are revealed,
Mirrors of passion, sorrow, and desire.
They cast their scorn with but a fleeting glance,
Or close in rest when weary shadows call.
They wake when hope and dreams again advance,
And greet the dawn with wisdom standing tall.
Through time they bow to truth, no lies remain,
For eyes alone see love’s sweet joy and pain.
Now quiet, settled, easy, leisurely
through life’s affairs,—say, couched in everyday—
and sipping being’s sweetest, freshest ray;
Sunshine!, Sunshine! ‘midst winter’s coldest glee!
Now troubled, disjointed, uneasily
fumbling, scrambling through dumb frowning time.—Gray-
-haired night’s murk weighs down gay light’s mirth filled play...—
tumbling through summer’s scorching cruelty!
An inescapable alternation
of gloom and cheer,(to be—and—not to be),
wheeling circles and cycles—infernal,—
recur, relapse, return through all creation.;
Remember, though pain’s but temporary,
vacuous suffering is eternal.
As the man walks alone he sees the joy from the counsel that has become the Pharisees.
They have given the oath of rituals that pertain to the past and not for the future.
Looking at the actions and expectations, he sees them like the corrupted Phrarisees.
What they have done is go against the Edenic beauty of nature!
Entitlement at young ages is the poison of love!
At young ages they have for fame and dishonor sacrificed their purity!
The red blood has left the once peaceful and love -filled dove!
It is now a blood-stained corpse that has lost it’s purity!
Shifting their gears to the left on an empty tank!
Has allowed them to become morally bankrupt!
They want a bridge and residence to make their bank!
Their family and views have lead all their morals to become corrupt!
In the beginning if you cannot build with me to become my partner!
Then do not have the expectation for me to make you my life partner!
Though matter may not be destroyed, the form
must be deformed; absolute fluidity
demands—with absolute rigidity—
that bonds made break free from an unstable frame.—
Erratic molecules and particles swarm
beyond the confines of lucidity;
But we, in stupor (and stupidity),
(poor things), give to fluidity a name…
I mean to say: Destruction is a must!
For,—given that something new’s to be built—,
creation draws from the dead flower’s wilt.
The energy that binds two atoms:tight:
is Love, attraction in the highest light!—
I mean to say: Destruction is the Just!
Almighty, his Majesty, the lord
I am not sure if you are present and listening
Many masses prayed from morning to evening
For your guidance, protection, and support
I, today, declared that no creeds stand out
As omnipotent as a condition of your being
People must acknowledge what they are doing
To rely on understanding and skills that they got
All these are now named skills or wisdom
Of being as philosophy, logic, such as causality
As a fact that nothing could come from vacuum
Nay, none of them against stand logic, obviously
No truths stand out without subjective assumes
Simply akin to butterflies born in the chrysalis
The pressure to perform, which grips the soul
In the moment of action, digs its claw
Deep into the body, taking control —
Tense hands, weak knees, shallow breathing, clenched jaw —
Those symptoms of exaggerated worry
And anticipated anxiety
Are themselves the causes of that dreary
Failure to achieve. With some gaiety,
Attempt to fail instead, shoot to flounder;
This paradoxical intention, see,
May be just what sweeps the legs from under
Our deepest seated fears and sets us free.
“Let go,” said the Buddha. “Dive in,” declares
Viktor Frankl. One succeeds when one dares.
Don't Walk blinks RED screaming; Staying Alive,
Life Ark two by two -- save/spend and start/end,
Better Safe Then Sorry -- Don't Drink and Drive,
Catch phrase that forewarn--protect and defend.
Seas calmness...falsely trains expert yachtsmen,
Stop and look both ways ere crossing the street,
Phrase tell us Why's/Wherefores at time tighten,
Calm ere the storm, wind turns, reverse at peak.
Lost/found, bad/good, hell/heaven, Satan/Christ,
End of the line -- Ground leastwise best, Sinners,
Broad spreads throughway to wickedness-Curses,
Throughfares the ways to righteousness-Winners,
Walk the tightrope-smart naught e'er run the talk,
Forethought count and define most tightrope walk.
Behold the world, encased in trembling fear,
Where whispers choke beneath a gilded chain.
The cries of truth fall mute, unheard, unclear,
While tyrants feast upon the meek in vain.
The streets are rivers, flowing red with plight,
As hunger gnaws upon the soul's frail thread.
The flames of greed consume the faintest light,
And silence wreathes the dirge for dreams long dead.
Yet, in the shadowed corners of despair,
A spark ignites, defying night's cruel reign.
The poet’s quill, a blade both sharp and fair,
Cuts through the veil to free the world of pain.
Rise, wordsmiths, rise—your gift divine bestowed,
Let justice bloom where truth has long been stowed.
The path is clear
But the intentions are blocked
Will wait for an answer
Before the question is thought
With all my being
Ive been torn and rought
My blades are sharp
To sharpen them tho i fought
There is no wager that can't be fleeced
Or journey that can't be dreamed
A path of a thousand paths
But one fulfilled can be deemed
It would with the greatest of feelings
It would hope for the redeemed
But my journey's end is violence
Will not fulfill what it seems
A silent storm rages on in my head
winds whisking into a symbolic swirl.
Though all alone, I lie here in my bed
spinning wound up words twisted till they twirl.
Peel off outer layers, see deep inside
emotive notions, stringy streaks in strips.
Peer into that space where one cannot hide -
stealth secrets shredded into bits of blips.
Joyfulness whistles by too quick to snatch
pondering the trip to the Pearly Gate.
Calmness lies so still, way too low to catch
crawling, creaking under this heavy weight.
These tortured torrents that may make me miss -
once settled down they turn to inner bliss.
102 words 14 lines Sonnet 2024