The students of Mr. Sale's Advanced Placement English Literature and Composition class at Arapahoe High School in Centennial, Colorado, will share their unique and insightful thoughts about the literature they read on this blog.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Sonnets
I invite you to post your original sonnets here. In addition, you may want to comment (even interpret?) some of the sonnets that your classmates have posted.
In Herot Hall, the legendary Geat Could solve a nation's problems while reclined; A wicked twist, a quick off-handed feat, And Anglo-Saxon values were defined. And meanwhile, Castle Elsinore's replete With poison plots, at least one fatal flaw, Some clashing swords, and eight or nine complete Soliloquies before the denouement. From Palace Thebes to West Egg's storied manse To Clutter farmhouse under Kansas sky, No matter how involved the psychic dance, The same two rules consistently apply: The poets lance the latest social sores, And readers get to mop the bloody floors.
You launch yourself now. I recall the times You had to have a starting push instead. The silver chains ring out like warning chimes. Your apogee is higher than my head. It's just the chains that keep you in the yard, That keep escape velocity at bay; Each higher arc reminds me that it's hard To keep a perfect orbit from decay. For gravity, the enemy of flight, Is strongest when you're closest to its sphere, And if you dream of distant stars at night, No chains will ever keep you swinging here. It lifts me up to see you seek the sky, For gravity is something to defy.
Suppose the crashing midnight waves had drowned his vengeful father’s story of attack, or that he’d thought to draw the curtain back instead of stabbing blindly at the sound – could you have brought the wretched lad around? Did you have wiles to tempt the maniac to shed his royal melancholy black and run his wayward Danish craft aground? That undiscovered union’s out of reach, for as you try to navigate his wake, he burns his ships to light his way to shore. His journey leaves him naked on the beach; your heavy garments prove a grave mistake; you both find silence in the ocean’s roar.
My heart! It pounds, it runs, it leaps for joy! I sight a fair young princess coming close. Seduction, power, glory all deploy A choice of two emotions youth may host. What wonders soothing love does to the soul! It calms the restless spirit and the mind With such an action fresh, emotion full; A healing balm of passion, good and kind. In corners dark and sparse-lit rooms discreet Roams Lust, that devil fiend of sacred love Which gives a lad his shallow sexual treat I give you warning now, sweet turtle dove But whether full of love or full of lust, Man’s heart will hide the truth, in no one trust.
I flip and turn with perfect grace and ease, My poise is evident in every stroke, My efforts to the eye are meant to please, Yet still I feel an underwater choke. To swim is paramount to working hard, But exercise is all that I desire, I’m worried that my pride is marked and charred With high ambition’s all-consuming fire. And now I must move on to better things I know I have no choice but leave behind The sport I’ve loved, but life I know will bring A face, a new identity to find. As steady and unchanged I’d like to be I cannot stop the world from changing me.
To laugh and thus engage in clever wit, To rage and weep a tempest of despair, To tender passions willingly submit, To human souls none other can compare. Yet we are naught but dust and froth and sand, And blinded by our unforgiving sight We toil in our quest to understand And stretch our limbs in earnest towards the light. We wield our words to burn or else to mend We seek to leave an everlasting mark Upon the world—or discover at the end Wisdom to deflect the reaching dark. Essential our existence seems to be Yet man is now and always temporary.
6 comments:
In Herot Hall
In Herot Hall, the legendary Geat
Could solve a nation's problems while reclined;
A wicked twist, a quick off-handed feat,
And Anglo-Saxon values were defined.
And meanwhile, Castle Elsinore's replete
With poison plots, at least one fatal flaw,
Some clashing swords, and eight or nine complete
Soliloquies before the denouement.
From Palace Thebes to West Egg's storied manse
To Clutter farmhouse under Kansas sky,
No matter how involved the psychic dance,
The same two rules consistently apply:
The poets lance the latest social sores,
And readers get to mop the bloody floors.
Swinging
You launch yourself now. I recall the times
You had to have a starting push instead.
The silver chains ring out like warning chimes.
Your apogee is higher than my head.
It's just the chains that keep you in the yard,
That keep escape velocity at bay;
Each higher arc reminds me that it's hard
To keep a perfect orbit from decay.
For gravity, the enemy of flight,
Is strongest when you're closest to its sphere,
And if you dream of distant stars at night,
No chains will ever keep you swinging here.
It lifts me up to see you seek the sky,
For gravity is something to defy.
To Ophelia
Suppose the crashing midnight waves had drowned
his vengeful father’s story of attack,
or that he’d thought to draw the curtain back
instead of stabbing blindly at the sound –
could you have brought the wretched lad around?
Did you have wiles to tempt the maniac
to shed his royal melancholy black
and run his wayward Danish craft aground?
That undiscovered union’s out of reach,
for as you try to navigate his wake,
he burns his ships to light his way to shore.
His journey leaves him naked on the beach;
your heavy garments prove a grave mistake;
you both find silence in the ocean’s roar.
Ambiguous Feelings
My heart! It pounds, it runs, it leaps for joy!
I sight a fair young princess coming close.
Seduction, power, glory all deploy
A choice of two emotions youth may host.
What wonders soothing love does to the soul!
It calms the restless spirit and the mind
With such an action fresh, emotion full;
A healing balm of passion, good and kind.
In corners dark and sparse-lit rooms discreet
Roams Lust, that devil fiend of sacred love
Which gives a lad his shallow sexual treat
I give you warning now, sweet turtle dove
But whether full of love or full of lust,
Man’s heart will hide the truth, in no one trust.
What’s in a Sport?
I flip and turn with perfect grace and ease,
My poise is evident in every stroke,
My efforts to the eye are meant to please,
Yet still I feel an underwater choke.
To swim is paramount to working hard,
But exercise is all that I desire,
I’m worried that my pride is marked and charred
With high ambition’s all-consuming fire.
And now I must move on to better things
I know I have no choice but leave behind
The sport I’ve loved, but life I know will bring
A face, a new identity to find.
As steady and unchanged I’d like to be
I cannot stop the world from changing me.
And another one...
Significance
To laugh and thus engage in clever wit,
To rage and weep a tempest of despair,
To tender passions willingly submit,
To human souls none other can compare.
Yet we are naught but dust and froth and sand,
And blinded by our unforgiving sight
We toil in our quest to understand
And stretch our limbs in earnest towards the light.
We wield our words to burn or else to mend
We seek to leave an everlasting mark
Upon the world—or discover at the end
Wisdom to deflect the reaching dark.
Essential our existence seems to be
Yet man is now and always temporary.
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