#American sonnet

[env0writes]

NaPoWriMo Vol. 3, 17.27.24 “America's (Sonnet) On It"

Rhythm and flow and heave and go Rise to lies and outward cash flow Capitol C, the sought currency No matter the title or what I might be Be it a foreman at the grill or George themselves Building up each day bound in our very own cells Working nine to five, hours spent and cost for anything No yoke or shackle keeps me bound within that ring We’re stuck in this storm, in buckets to yachts Now we can see who hasn’t and who’s gots Yank the chain of progress Sound the bell on this mess Pull and pull and pull till pulling splinters and blisters Screwed up hands can’t grab at the world myster’ Ease your way through life at the top of this tower Money is time and time gives you power

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by my friend Mika

[salovie]

Give me a moment, let me marvel

At the freckles on your arm;

Will you let me linger at my masterpiece?

I know you’re too free to stay still,

Limbs too long to lock down;

I only want this small gift, this gem of a memory,

Your colors and shapes sharp for a while.

It’s just that you’re the blaze I reach toward

To kill the chill, warm my bones, bring my blood

Back to life. You mesmerize, seize my gaze.

As a breeze that seems to crave the campfire,

I blend the wind with petal-soft words and

Send it your way: not to extinguish,

But to help you spread.

[secretsinthedarkthepodcast]

NaPoWriMo (2024) Day 27: Farewell

This one's for my friends. I'll miss my time here with them

Day 27’s prompt asked for an American sonnet. I always thought that it was so cool that Americans had a convocation and I wanted to attend one. In a few days, I’ll have it too. But I will lose my friends. And although I have been avoiding it, I think its all over me. I cannot escape it. On the 4th Day of May, it will all endThe only place you decoratedWith dirty plates, and strewn clothes Lights…

[beautifleye]

Bring me to life

Finding a man who sees the broken pieces of my heart Hating the trials and tribulations I’ve been through dating Anger stored up as weapons ready to be unleashed Inclusive members of this club of walled emotional outbursts Joy unmatched as I watch your eyebrows unfurl Words impacting your demeanor with destructive tendencies Incapable of seeing how this isn’t benefitting me Sullen times in…

[authormarialberg]

XLIV Pushcart Prize Collection

On the page across from the editor’s note in the May/June 2020 Poets&Writers Magazine, there’s a full page ad for the 2020 Pushcart Prize XLIV Best of the Small Presses edited by Bill Henderson. The X in this number is ten subtracted from the L after it, as the I is one subtracted from the V after it, so we end up with forty-four. P&W Collage #23 – Wedge There’s a quote from Jane Hirshfield on…

[nickchristian86]

NaPo Day 27 | Here we are again

Here we are again with Silence in the room. Here we are again with A dry mouth and nausea. … Here we are again I can’t escape the fucking thought. Here we are again It should have happened by now. … Here we are again. And again…. and again… and again.. Again again againagainagain Just make it fucking stop. … I should know you by now. And I don’t. The prompt for day 27 was an…

[princepestilence]

I know it’s basically because your country is disorganised and hostile to democratic process, and coincidentally also actually an empire of many smaller countries badly stitched together, but I swear it feels like Americans are voting constantly. Every other week, there’s something important and political you’re voting about, and I’m always here like, “didn’t you just do that?? I swear you just had a big vote about something and you’ve already got another one?”

[whatareyoureallyafraidof]

[fictionadventurer]

NaPoWriMo #36: An American sonnet

In my story, "The Dust That Falls From Passing Stars", the main character watches a beggar gathering stardust that falls from the star-jewelry of the wealthy, and thinks he could use the moment as inspiration for a poem. I finally decided to try turning it into one.

*

Behold the beauty of the heavens captured And set within adornments for the great So those who pass below might stand enraptured By all the wealth and pow'r of their estate. These stars revolve in wondrous constellations But none who wear them have the eyes to see So blinded by their empty jubilations While gathered on the palace balcony.

But look! A poor girl in the frozen gutter Beholds the dust that's falling from their stars And gathers up with joy too great to utter The glory that the wealthy disregard. The girl the starfall rich hold in disgust Outshines them with her beauty in the dust.

[elskanellis]

NO I THOUGHT OF THAT EXACT POEM TOOOO girls when last years' leaves are smoke in every lane 😭😵‍💫💀

posting this as an ask so that I can unleash Edna on EVERYONE, truly one of the sonnets of all time, I cannot think of a person who has not felt this in some way, about some loss of some person in some kind of relationship. AAGHCK.

“Time does not bring relief; you all have lied”

— Edna St. Vincent Millay Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me of my pain! I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide; The old snows melt from every mountain-side, And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane; But last year’s bitter loving must remain Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide. There are a hundred places where I fear To go,—so with his memory they brim. And entering with relief some quiet place Where never fell his foot or shone his face I say, “There is no memory of him here!” And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

©️1931, via Poetry Foundation, but in my heart it's always via this very small book i had of ESVM poems when i was 16

[poem-today]

A poem by William H. Dickey

On His Way Home to Wyoming

We were too brief to expect to keep in touch. The traffic stream has carried you past my stop I am no time you should remember much; the moment of tenderness your mind lets drop the way a cigarette falls from the hand of a lover who is drunk or half asleep and harmlessly burns out. I understand the pleasure of having what we need not keep. And when you leave, I understand the pleasure of silence, of having my body to myself, of washing your glass and putting it on a shelf, of measuring out the day to my own measure, at ease, not glad, not sorry that you have gone, the bed stripped bare, the clean sheets not yet on.

William H. Dickey (1928–1994)

[haveyoureadthispoem-poll]

"It was discovered the best way to combat / Sadness was to make your sadness a door."

Read it here | Reblog for a larger sample size!

[abellinthecupboard]

(not the sun. but the fuzzy glint of former light captured briefly in boot leather mid-tample

— from "American Sonnet 81", by Wanda Coleman, Bathwater Wine (1998)

[amalgamationink]

NAPOWRIMO24 #27: Independent Bookstore Day

[lethesbeastie]

Artwork I did as part of my final presentation for my poetry class, the captions are from Terrance Hayes "I trap you in an American Sonnet..."

Tw for blood and animal death under the cut!

Chorus just keeps going through it

[gennsoup]

Shuttered in hot light and oil-seared stars, you alone carry the weight of planetary anxieties.

Sally Wen Mao, Sonnets for Kudryavka