The Sonnet Sonnet

            

A sonnet is the clever use of rhyme

In patterns such as Petrarch might employ

Or Shakespeare's playful whimsy intertwine

For centuries of lovers to enjoy.

A sonnet is an unrelenting beat,

The blood's intrinsic pulse of weak and strong,

That runs full-tilt for five iambic feet

In three times four plus two, a discipline of song.

A sonnet is a message of the heart,

Of Wordsworth's wonder, Milton's heavy hand,

Of Keats's classic skill, of Shelley's art.

Of Browning's love songs from a foreign land.

    While others seek the chessboard on a day,

    The sonnet is my choice of game to play.

                                            

Morning Poetry

Another of Fiorella's favorites, by one of her favorite poets, Robert Browning:

        Pippa Passes

The year's at the spring,
The day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hillside's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his heaven--
All's right with the world!

Fio especially enjoys the rhyme pattern: a-b-c-d-a-b-c-d

Pippa Revised

The day's at the morn, the hillside's dew-pearled--
I set my lance and raise my flag,
Bind my wounds and pack my bag,
To battle 'gainst the encroaching world.