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  50 Sonnets

  More poetry written by

  P.J. Lowry

  Copyright 2013 P.J. Lowry

  License Note:

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

  Dearest reader,

  I write this letter to you today (as well as this book) as a humble enthusiast of the mighty sonnet.

  A ‘sonnet’ is a structure of poetry that originated in Italy. The term sonnet actually derives from the Italian word sonetto, which means ‘little song’ or ‘little sound’. A Sicilian poet named Giacomo da Lentini is endorsed by many as its inventor. Sonnets are commonly 14 lines long and carry a distinct model of rhymes that varies from one culture to another.

  Despite this endorsement the man who is more commonly known for writings sonnets, 154 of them as a matter of fact in his own unique way, was William Shakespeare. It was Shakespeare’s brilliance that introduced yours truly to the magic that is the sonnet, and it is Willy’s distinct pattern (abab, cdcd, efef, gg) that I actually prefer to employ when penning my very own sonnets.

  While I have concocted many different forms of poetry over the last twenty plus years I’ve been writing, for some reason I always come back to the sonnet. People and other poets tend to criticize sonnets for being so restrictive and having all those rules, but it’s completely unwarranted. It’s those very rules that create the challenge, a lyrical gauntlet that makes the sonnet the bad ass of poetry that it is. The truth is anyone can construct a ‘free flowing’ poem but not every writer can compose a sonnet.

  In my previous book of poetry titled ‘Recurring Dream’, there are five sonnets. They are some of my best works and whenever I write a sonnet that is not only pretty good but somewhat coherent, I feel such an overwhelming sense of pride. For that reason alone I whole heartedly confess: I love writing sonnets. Within this petite book is a compilation of fifty brand new, never before seen sonnets. I started writing these sonnets in early October of 2012 and completed number fifty by March the very next year.

  My affair with the sonnet will never end, but today I breathe new life into my favourite genre of poetry. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did composing them.

  Sincerely,

  P.J.

  Silent is the night as I stare upon a blank page

  marvelling what radiance may come by my pen

  nervous my mind might be trapped within a cage

  as silent poets are no longer the wise men.

  Blocked from this world, sheltered from all life

  I languish for daylight while pining for new hope

  the struggle nags my brain like an unbearable wife

  stressed to bring out something of immense scope.

  It should not feel this bad, never this strained

  the words should want to flow out like a river

  rather than feeling this confined, this restrained

  I fear not a word shall ever run off this quiver.

  Art like life; difficult to bring forth into the light

  but one must keep fighting and continue to write.

  I arise from a deep and very comforting sleep

  waking up to realize the day is dark and sad

  times are so harsh, I just want to openly weep

  over what she did, how things became so bad.

  Many people insist that I do not place blame

  on myself for what I didn’t perform or control

  I was led astray, there’s not need to feel shame

  in a betrayal I did not contribute nor have any role.

  Where was I as this revolting game was going on?

  Tending to my young, doing what men are supposed

  to do when trying to be responsible, it didn’t dawn

  on me that our love was fading, our hearts closed.

  So much sorrow to my soul she has brought

  my love will carry on, the relationship will not.

  I open my eyes and awaken to greet the new day

  hoping the morning will bring forth good memories

  soon my delight and excitement starts to give way

  as I begin to remember the past and her atrocities.

  Pain came my way by her will and deliberate malice

  her words cutting through my heart like a dull knife

  the actions that ended our love, so cold and callous

  never again would I endure such pain in all my life.

  She was my love, the one whom I wished to share

  all our times, in sickness and health, better or worse

  I thought life without her was like being without air

  but our marriage was about as finite as this verse.

  There are days I look back and wonder what might be

  but the thought of her now makes me want to flee.

  Graceful is her spirit as well as her compassion

  for her fellow men and women, those left without

  her choices made are not what’s deemed good fashion

  but to support those who are helpless and in doubt.

  Their lives are lost, like their ability to function in society

  her heart knows no limit, which is what I admire most

  people are inspired by her, through her clear propriety

  she cares for those who are lost, but never dared to boast.

  The things she does, they are gifts from a gentle soul

  as she loves everyone as if they were all her own child

  raising them to become independent, reach for a goal

  teaching them to remain calm, keep their tempers mild.

  Saints like her are a rare breed, much like the animals

  as they learn none of us are different, always to be equals.

  Each day I look her way, my heart skips a beat

  as my eyes are rapt by her beauty and her grace

  I feel spoiled as my ocular nerves are given a treat

  urges brew in my soul as I yearn to share her space.

  Her flowing red hear shines as bright as the love

  that fills my heart, like blood that beats life into me

  she has the kind of life we all long to be a part of

  as I long to create new branches in her family tree.

  Yet the love I hold will never see the light of day

  she deeply loves another, her life has never been better

  I’m doomed to a lonely life, where skies are grey

  none will know how I feel but those reading this letter.

  While I long to be with her, to caress my ailing brow

  I’d never wish her pain, just to have her with me now.

  I venture out in search of a new lady to love

  but each day seems like a never ending struggle

  life is slapping me around without a gentle glove

  I might as well give up; try to learn how to juggle.

  The quest seems so hopeless when you’re alone

  afraid that you’ll never again find someone special

  it’s as if nature is refusing to even toss you a bone

  forcing one to seek help from somebody more celestial.

  Far from above grovelling, never was I so desperate

  to seek help and courage to keep searching for that one

  despite the fact that I look for a mate that is articulate

  in a vast sea of people, a daunting task that isn’t fun.

  One day I will find her, that one, extraordinary lady

  I just wish that we could discover each other already.

  Each day I see people who make it, who succeed


  and I view them with jealous eyes, envious of them

  when each day I work hard to live, struggle till I bleed

  as by their standards, I barely grow my own stem.

  I seep with bitter feelings, hating those who have more

  riches and fame and the things that make them happy

  residing in the penthouse, while I rot on the bottom floor

  living a good life when others feel miserable and crappy.

  Then I think about the things that make me content

  bringing love and hope to my heart, and never do I hide

  when I’m down and my vigour is scattered and spent

  my energy returns with a big hug from a loving child.

  When I’m with them, the anger and sorrow leaves

  as our children are a gift, one not everyone receives.

  It’s difficult to concentrate when she’s around

  everyone else seems to vanish in her presence

  I long to speak with her, break new ground

  but I fear rejection, being labelled a menace.

  I sincerely try not to stare but it’s just so hard

  as it’s easy to be mesmerized by her beauty

  it’s difficult to imagine her loving me, a tub of lard

  one day I shall accept reality, but I’m not ready.

  I yearn to hold her, to feel her loving embrace

  yet understand my feelings will never be real

  everyone here is charmed by her wit and grace

  I’m afraid to speak, to divulge how I really feel.

  I’m better off moving on, to look for someone new

  as I have no chance to see this dream come true.

  Each day I wonder if things will ever get better

  if I disappear tomorrow, would I ever be missed?

  I yearn for someone to hold like a warm sweater

  even praying to a God I don’t believe to exist.

  Lately my bed feels almost an empty as my soul

  nothing means anything unless it can be shared

  life seems as trying as staring at a blank scroll

  things seem so lost, as if no one will or ever cared.

  I keep up the search but these days I feel so sad

  wondering if I will find that new special someone

  to share all the moments with, both good and bad

  these days I feel so cheerless, I just want to run.

  There’s someone out there, or so I’ve often been told

  right now it’s hard to imagine out there in the cold.

  Everyday I think about her, I get jealous

  of the man she’s with, that lucky bastard

  I can’t help it; she’s so amazing, so gorgeous

  my dreams are unrealistic and quite absurd.

  She’s out of my league, I can honestly admit

  it’s hard not to stare and imagine what could be

  we’ll always be friends, that’s all fate will permit

  her loveliness is a drug and I’m a hooked junkie.

  As they smile and laugh, all I can do is watch

  from a distance, realizing how lost and sorry I am

  for I have a better chance of finding a sasquatch

  than finding a way into the heart of that madame.

  Fate can be so unkind as the others I love move on

  I should be happy for her; but I’m a love struck moron.

  Things can be so discouraging when I see the news

  people are dying and incapable of getting along

  we call on our nations to bring an end to this abuse

  but it never works as leaders are too headstrong.

  Children grow up in the middle of an eastern battlefield

  they’re afraid to go out for pizza or play at local parks

  the only life they know is constricted and concealed

  suffering from the politics of presidents and monarchs.

  Habitats are destroyed and lives are literally torn apart

  as pictures of their horror are beamed into our homes

  by heartless networks who have no intention to thwart

  the killers who are sending out the planes and drones.

  I hope one day we can talk and see this violence cease

  people can be bombed to pieces, but never into peace.

  She’s out there somewhere, waiting for me

  to stroll into her life and turn it upside down

  I’ve never been the kind of guy to be choosy

  I need someone, anyone to take away this frown.

  When that day arrives, it will be hard to conceal

  as the celebration will be heard around the world

  as things will get better, it will all feel so surreal

  one of those things that will leave your toes curled.

  I hope that day comes sooner rather than later

  as I sit here alone, composing these lame poems

  I would always prefer to be a lover than a hater

  a chance to add to my family tree some new stems.

  We assume the risks, but there’s never a guarantee

  that one day we’ll actually find that special sweetie.

  Words mean little when looking for new love

  attraction isn’t essential either, but matters still

  while many things factor when looking a sort of

  person that will excite you and give you a chill.

  It doesn’t matter how hard you try, things happen

  only when one is able to let go and stop trying

  does the time come when love lets out its beckon

  calling you better days that are anything but boring.

  Try to hard and you will come across as desperate

  which causes people to cringe away from the clingy

  thus making you about as desirable as a casket

  it’s a tough game that leaves you bruised and bloody.

  While it may seem like things will never go your way

  enjoy your appetizer, life will in time serve a fine entrée.

  Never in my life had I seen such horror

  unfold before my very eyes on the screen

  that one person barged in like a wild ogre

  spraying bullets like a well trained marine.

  This was no professional, merely a young boy

  unable to control his mind and trigger finger

  hell bent on a wicked path to seek and destroy

  waging an attack on our lives and very culture.

  We all point our fingers, eager to lay blame

  for shootings going on in theatres and schools

  while the media showers the shooter in fame

  and congress is unwilling to change the rules.

  People need to wise up and finally get a clue

  gun control is possible, but there is much to do.

  Everyday it’s so hard to rise from my bed

  I’m not ready to get up and face the world

  for I’m afraid of the failures that lie ahead

  I prefer to stay in bed with my legs curled.

  Our there are people I’d rather not face

  I feel like my life has been a terrible shame

  I’ve done little and am complete disgrace

  it’s far too late to come back to win the game.

  Some say I shouldn’t be so hard on myself

  for I’ve lived long and managed to enlighten

  others like a encouraging book on the shelf

  waiting to strike with the authority of a titan.

  When I do pass on and depart this world for good

  one hopes these works will be forever understood.

  As each day passes and I continue to wonder

  when our nations will make an effort to stop

  the coarse atrocities of war, the barbaric plunder

  of land, resources and working people of their crop.

/>   The people march the streets, rising up to shout

  their absolute disgust of how things are being run.

  Words fall on deaf ears, the people have no clout

  as our leaders keep people at bay with gas and guns.

  With each convention the people try to protest

  being stopped by barricades and abusive guards

  still hoping our views and issues will be addressed

  we’re then tossed away like unwanted greeting cards.

  One day they’ll hear us, our words will get through

  leaders can’t ignore us forever, we will be attended to.

  When times are difficult and I am feeling blue

  all I have to do is think about you and I smile

  as my heart again refills with a love that is true

  my strength returns and I can go that extra mile.

  There is nothing that is more sensual or tender

  than to feel your hand caress my troubled brow

  it sooths my ailing soul, returning from a bender

  of being away from you, almost too much to allow.

  The night is as gentle as your lips pressed to cheek

  your kisses heal me like Aphrodite’s magical tears

  I no longer despair returning from a day so bleak

  in your arms I wish to remain for the rest of my years.

  Just seeing you is enough to make my heart melt

  my love for you is the deepest thing I’ve ever felt.

  When days are dark and I want to hide

  the hate melts away with a warm embrace

  from the very small arms of a loving child

  I feel like I’m away, almost in a new place.

  Life at that moment doesn’t seem so hard