Sonnets!!!

Okay. This is my sonnet. I don't like it very much. I wrote one a little over a year ago that I like a lot more. I will post both up here.


I really love sonnets. The first time I remember hearing about sonnets was in A Wrinkle In Time. 


Mrs. Whatsit asked Calvin, "In your language you have a form of poetry called the sonnet...There are fourteen lines, I believe, all in iambic pentameter. And each line has to end with a rigid rhyme pattern. And if the poet does not do it exactly this way it is not a sonnet, is it? But within this strict form the poet has complete freedom to say whatever we wants, doesn't he?"
Calvin responded, "You mean you're comparing our lives to a sonnet? A strict form but freedom within it?" 
"Yes." Mrs. Whatsit said, "You're given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. What you say is completely up to you." (198)


For some reason this always stuck out in my mind as a really excellent representation of what is impossibly cool about sonnets. 

Here are my sonnets:


O night has come while still my search prolonged
An strain my eyes I must 'gainst gath'ring haze.
I stumble, my path, once clear, now thronged
With fog that clouds my mind 'til in a daze.
I lay my head upon the cobbled stone
For no new steps can take these weary feet. 
Alone I lay, soft rain does batter my bones.
I hold no hope for kindly man to meet.
But wait, what light has pierced this blinding mist?
And what is this that strokes my rain soaked head?
A hand, but whose? Now pulled up by the wrist
I stand, with strength newfound, my fear now shed.
I look about, my savior sudd'nly gone,
Yet now I step, my prior fears withdrawn.


I've fallen from the saving light of day
In dismal deep, my feeling's fallen short
Now numb I sit, awaiting slow decay
A mocking drink serves steward to my sport.
The liquid's bitter with the taste of ash,
With every sip, another shard of glass
That cuts my tongue and leaves a telling lash.
Oh heart, don't fear the cuts to come to pass
For surely there is still a ways to fall.
And though this drink goes down with burning ache,
There's one more cup, most bitter of them all.
Though prone to doubt, with fear about to break,
Take, heart, this cup will prove they saving grace,
and let the holder lift your weary face.


I also thought I would share my very favorite sonnet, which I have recently discovered:


Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.


Have you ever tried to write a sonnet? Do you find it more difficult than free verse? 
Is anyone else as fascinated as I am by the ability of poets to play with language and create innovative images within a very strict form.