This is not a Shakespearian Sonnet, but a Constant Sonnet in Iambivalent Pentameter.
Shakespeare, famous for Cleo of the Nile
Heard a young poet, whose words made him smile
"Old poets may wish me into exile
All sonnets, I do not dare to defile
Synchronizing syllables suggest guile
But many meters are meant to beguile.
No poem rules, a poet is an isle."
Shakespeare said suddenly, after awhile
"My first act is a tame, yet shrewd, denial
Rhyme without reason is what I revile
Use some discipline before you compile
One can not time rhythm with a sundial.
I write, therefore, Iambic measured style."
Not to be, a Shakespeare bibliophile.
I'm a poet, not for profit, and thought set free
I'm an enigma, a mystery, confusing even me
I may not know myself, but does anybody
Know what lurks inside so insidiously.
We all think we realize who we are
Until we find ourselves inside the bars
We can not breathe nor run very far
Once the heckles begin, we hyde our scars.
I believed I knew my worst enemy
I fought my thought foes extrinsically
When do I examine my own eternity
Not the person I am, but whom I wish to be.
We do not travel this forked road on our own
Though the sole food for thought, feeds us alone
We need to nourish the seeds we have sown
But the soul we save must be home grown.
I will not judge other's lack of humanity
Until I think more profound than profanity
When I vanquish my own ingrained vanity
I shall be free from a world of insanity.
Woot! YES. Take a stand.
Thanks. The '60s was a decade of music, protest, and progress. I'd like to see activists come out for the July concert 'cause the country is shifting left again.
I am one with the fair, common man
I will stand with my working class clan
I believe justice, isn't just, in this land
Greed's our creed but I'd think before Ayn Rand.
A court of supreme jesters aid the plan
Where rule by fossil fuel is in the can
Earth warmin' ain't a left wing scam
Kooks cook us with oil in a frying pan.
Mind eyes see the glory of the common man
Oligarchs and politicians are butt grains of sand
Their base is a cacophony that should be banned
As we search for Eden in a gulf that is Iran.
Equality will ripple throughout this land
As we be Dylangent and aghast again
From July forth, be a retro Garcia fan
Will you be there with us my Undead friend.
Time to be like the Mo' hot man
To march as King to north Lincolnland
To remember the poor and forgotten
Please come to Chicago and take a stand.
This night, awakened
When she loses
A universal pass, collapse
Doorways imagined latch
We are all innocent here
Infinite wisdom burning near
All seasons come to being,
Gleam angelic flown
Living not existing,
Surrender, pure reminiscing
Realms thought unknown
All soulful songs simply sewn
Midnight roses, come quiet
Under star, stone
Timeless magic, closer home
Audible to a worthy soul,
Her many majestic volumes
Ripple gently, eternal eve
Spirited lifetime in bloom
Knowing wind's whispers unfold
Now say a farewell to goodbyes
Burn your essence, warm promise
In the light, once a strangers eyes
Such a virtuous reveal
All is one, wake, truly feel
Steeped dreams that linger still
Reckonings silhouette intertwined
A harmonious invent,
Pure pathways intent
A righteous souls design
the tether fades from sight
life preserver intact
worry waits it's turn
slivers of hope up on stage
that old familiar feeling
like a dealer
at your parent's house
unexpected and unwelcome
into the dark
hoping to see
but expecting the sharks
Easy how a soul can fabricate, in stillness wander
Seasoned cities tethered true, a soft secret lover
Midnight's sorcery, her pristine machine envelops me
Intrinsic yet free, loving language, a beauties decree
Universal dialect, romance of the mystique, resurrect
Recycled butterfly, woven wonders nigh, wings cradle courageous wind
Brilliant breeze, freedom's lullaby, her natural ecstasies, never to descend
World's but a whisper, malevolent betrayal never to kiss her, one with blameless flight
Beauties surrender, soulful invent, a soaring flame quells, cures winters nameless night
Perhaps the world was yours all along
As the sparrow brilliantly sewn to breeze
Lose yourself in rapturous midnight song
Ancient language, dance of souls revelries
Wind blown, time flown, immaculate suggestion
Do we deserve the world or her protection?
born of clay and coal
Baptized in the river of souls
ashes to ashes
flesh to bones
no ferryman to guide me
return to the river of souls
To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree.
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me-
That is my dream!
To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening...
A tall, slim tree...
Night coming tenderly,
Black like me.
- Langston Hughes