I’m sorry that you hate all that I am.
I’m sorry that the world agrees – how sad.
And so they laugh with you like hungry wolves,
Upon the moon’s arrival, all are mad.
It’s not my fault I’m better than you’ll be.
By God, I’m still atrocious at some things.
Compare is false; we all lack something true,
For that’s what gives our gracious souls their wings.
I have ambitions – true, but don’t we all?
Don’t criticize me for my dignity.
For sticks and stones won’t break – can’t break – my bones.
The taunts you fling are useless – you shall see.
Although my cry is lost within the crowd,
Soon mockery is only but a shroud.
First sonnet, testing out a combination of a formal poetic form with intense emotion. It inspired my further journey into iambic pentameter...
ReplyDeletecool, nice. this is pretty good. I really hope this isn't from your personal life?
ReplyDeleteOtherwise, I really like it how the narrator just doesn't care, lol. Mwhahaha, people torture you, you torture back by seeing how silly it is.
Thanks Alice! My life is sad, but not that sad! I wrote this one in summer 2007 to experiment. :)
ReplyDeletehi Mike, excellent collection for a teenager. a very refreshing look at life that only the young can take.
ReplyDeleteby golly, I can hardly rhyme when I was about your age.
in case there are older people who would criticize your sonnets for adult reasons, ignore them. old people write about things that concern them; young people do the same. the topics of the young are not wrong or raw, just different.
allow me to make some little suggestions in lines 6 & 7 which I incorporated below. keep up the good work.
Sonnet I
I’m sorry that you hate all that I am.
I’m sorry that the world agrees – how sad.
And so they laugh with you like hungry wolves;
Upon the moon’s arrival, all are mad.
It’s not my fault I’m better than you’ll be.
By God, I’m worse than you in certain things.
Do not compare; we all lack something true,
For that’s what gives our gracious souls their wings.
I have ambitions – true, but don’t we all?
Don’t criticize me for my dignity.
For sticks and stones won’t break – can’t break – my bones.
The taunts you fling are useless – you shall see.
Although my cry is lost within the crowd,
Soon mockery is only but a shroud.
rhyming pattern: xaxa xbxb xcxc dd
sonnet type: chivalric rhyme scheme
Ah, that's because this one was from when I was suicidal, last year. I'm not so depressed and angsty now. (I hope...) Please read more and comment! I'd appreciate more comments/advice. And I'd love for you to follow my blog (http://www.blogger.com/follow-blog.g?blogID=3810172600840678349&loginTemplateDirectory=FOLLOWING) to read more sonnets as they come. :)
ReplyDelete