Writing 201 – Sonnet

I wrote and published this sonnet on my blog a few weeks ago.  I’ve just come across it again and am still quite pleased with it, so thought I’d post it again.  Hope you don’t mind.

One thing has given me endless and unending pleasure for as long as I can remember, so my sonnet is dedicated to the pleasure of reading a good book.

FOR THE LOVE OF BOOKS

With my mind I thee worship, with my soul I drink you in
Tickling, teasing, so infinitely pleasing, these words I find within a book
Such exquisite phraseology inviting me within
How could I resist the chance to sit and pick you up

Transported to a different place, with real time standing still
I delve inside without a pause your secrets to discover
You manage to entice me, captivate and delight me, I bend to your will
Willingly, like a virgin to her lover

How many hours will I sit here perched upon this seat
I do not know and I care not, I’m hungry
And words are the only food I wish to eat

So many words, so little time, so many books to read
Such pleasure still awaiting me as I grow old
My mind and my soul will never be in need

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Writing 201 – Sonnet

Today’s assignment, the last for this course, is to write a sonnet with the subject being ‘pleasure’.  One thing has given me endless and unending pleasure for as long as I can remember, so my sonnet is dedicated to the pleasure of reading a good book.

FOR THE LOVE OF BOOKS

With my mind I thee worship, with my soul I drink you in
Tickling, teasing, so infinitely pleasing, these words I find within a book
Such exquisite phraseology inviting me within
How could I resist the chance to sit and pick you up

Transported to a different place, with real time standing still
I delve inside without a pause your secrets to discover
You manage to entice me, captivate and delight me, I bend to your will
Willingly, like a virgin to her lover

How many hours will I sit here perched upon this seat
I do not know and I care not, I’m hungry
And words are the only food I wish to eat

So many words, so little time, so many books to read
Such pleasure still awaiting me as I grow old
My mind and my soul will never be in need

Writing 201 Poetry

For the assignment today, we were given as the subject, ‘something which sends a chill down the spine’.

The form:  concrete poetry = a shape,

The device: anaphora/epistrophe.  Anaphora = repetition of the same words, or cluster of words at the beginning of multiple lines of verse.  I did that yesterday (not knowing what the device was called).  I decided to do my own thing again today but using the first two criteria.  Hope you like it.  I wrote it this morning in a Word document.  In that document words forming the hilt of the dagger coloured deep purple, whilst the blade of the dagger is coloured red, to represent the blood.  It didn’t transfer over and I can’t seem to add coloured text.  Annoying.  Please can you just imagine the colours?  Many thanks 🙂

COLD HATE

Cold
steel
Sharp point
Plunged in Protruding
out, Handle gripped
Anger ripped
Warm blood
Spurting red
Leaching out
Sharp cries
Last breath
Body dead
Cold heart
Cold steel
Stained
with
Hate

..
.

Writing 210 – Poetry

Today we were given the task of writing a poem in the form of a ballad, using ‘neighbourhood’ as the subject and Assonance as the device.  Hmm, done my own thing again.  I love the different tasks we get, and I love being stretched.  Unfortunately my muse doesn’t work in such a structured way and refuses to do as she’s asked!  I can’t get cross with her as she never leaves me without anything to say – although she’s taken it right to the line once or twice!  Today is no different, my muse has spoken, I’ve written it down on paper and now I’m sharing it here.

You can sing this, if you like, to ‘Amazing Grace’ – thank you @benhuberman for the suggestion 🙂

‘Our Lives Writ On Their Leaves’

The trees wear clothes beyond compare
They’ll soon be stripped and bare
The autumn rushes quickly in
To steal away their care

As kids we thrived, our playground vast
No boundaries for us
Creating dens in deep dense woods
Those trees were friends of ours

Now children play so close to home
Wild treasures know they not
For shame, they’ll never know the joy
Of days spent in the copse

Surrounded by protection we,
Secluded, pass our days
Those trees watch o’er every year
Our lives writ on their leaves

This morning bright and early, just before I got into my car to head off to work, I took some images on my phone of the trees which are right outside our home.  There are trees everywhere here, the whole town is surrounded by them (apart from the part that is fronted by the sea).  The leaves are simply stunning – coppers, bronzes, golds, deep reds and brighter yellows.  Could I capture them on camera?  I’m afraid not, though I’ve added one into this post as the subject matter of my poem pertains to the trees which surround me.

Writing 201 Poetry

This one was a tough one for me.  The subject = Face; the form = something found (e.g. words etc.); the device = a chiasmus or reversal.   Until five minutes ago I had no clue at all what to do, what to write, how to write it.  Then, out of the blue, my husband said ‘well, a face … could be a clock face …’  Inspired!

Sometimes you just need a kick to start the imagination engine!

Faces of Time

What time is it
Time goes so fast
I haven’t time to wait

What time is it
Time I went home
It’s time for tea at eight

What time is it
Fast goes the time
Oh, I arrived too late

What time is it
I’m older now
I cannot rush so fast

What time is it
Now, I’ve forgot
Alone now, I’m the last

What time is it
I’m old and grey
My time’s now gone and past

It is time
It is time
It is time

This is probably not what was meant but let me qualify it a little.  The face is represented by all the time-piece faces; the form (something found) are the words the faces drew out of me, the device is hidden somewhat but is represented by time outrunning, catching up with and, eventually, overtaking the narrator.

Writing 201: Poetry – Favourite poems

Of the many poems I have stumbled across and read throughout my life, there are two which speak to me always and which are my absolute favourites.  The first is Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s ‘How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways.’  The second is Leo Marks’ ‘The life that I have’.

Why are these my favourites?  Because Elizabeth Barrett Browning possessed the gift of being able to turn mere words into something sublime, and because Leo Marks summed up everything I feel towards the love of my life, my husband.  I make no apologies for soppiness 🙂

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

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Writing 201: Poetry Day 5

Below is today’s response to the assignment which is to write a poem in the form of an ode using a map as the subject and a metaphor as the device – the metaphor element I have not attempted.

I’ve often wondered, where did you go to all those years ago?
Last night I tried to find you,
Though I doubt you would want to know
How I closed my eyes, in hope that I
Could conjure up the mystic path you travelled
In fevered, dream-like state I searched alone for your footprints
The footprints which would have re-assured me
Of your once existence
I found them not, no sight of them, no sign you passed this way
Yet pass you did, there is no doubt –
My heart still feels your presence
Just there, just now, and there again.   But,
The road to where you are lies way beyond my ken
I cannot see where you have gone nor why you left us then
You left no map behind to help us follow you
I shouted, called, cried out to you but you did not, or would not, hear my words
This morning I awoke to realise I have no desire
To walk the roads and take the route that led you to your end
My map shows me a different route, one that does not lead your way
Another direction beckons me for I am here to stay
I love my life – as you did not – your map was yours alone
To travel your roads, to reach the place where you could feel at home.

Writing 201: Poetry Day 4

Today’s assignment being to write a limerick I thought Id have a go.  I’m not sure about the imperfect nature part – though maybe I’ve included that accidentally, but I’ve not even attempted the enjambment device – I’d rather use that for free-form prose to be honest.  I prefer free-form poetry which also encompasses something which, I now know, as enjambment.  Don’t want it in a limerick as I think they should be funny.  Not sure mine is too funny but here it is, for good or bad:

Don’t know what I’m having for dinner
No matter, I need to be thinner
With no biscuits to munch
And an apple for lunch
I just may be onto a winner

Image accreditation to Unsplash.com – posted by Ali Inay

Writing 201: Poetry

Day two of Writing 201 – Poetry is to write a poem in the form of an acrostic.  Not something I’ve tried before so here goes:

THE GIFT

Thoughtful, it’s terrific, thanks
Heartfelt, I’m happy and honoured
Ecstatic, elated and emotional

Given with grace, I’m gobsmacked
It’s ideal, so innovative
From you, for me, forever
To treasure – truly

Today’s device was suggested as a simile, but I couldn’t get my brain to compute that one after a long day’s work – perhaps I’ll try it another day when my brain isn’t so frazzled.