For the last few years, I said I was going to write a sonnet, so I could check this item off my list. Yet, I kept putting if off, because it is not as easy as writing a 30 minute haiku.
A Bit of History
Sonnets were invented in the 13th century in Italy. The word sonnet derives from the Italian word sonetto, which translated means “little song.” Michelangelo wrote them as well as the sculptures he created. Shakespeare popularized them in English during the turn into the 17th century. Plutarchian and Shakespearian are the two most popular forms of sonnets.
A Bit of Form
Sonnets have a musical quality to them with a pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables called feet. An iamb is an unstressed then a stressed syllable equaling one foot. Pentameter is five feet, so there are ten syllables for each of the fourteen lines. Sounds like dancing with a partner who has two left feet! But just as in dancing, practice makes if not perfect, then easier.
Words at the end of the lines have a rhyme scheme: abab cdcd efef gg – same letters rhyme. Lastly, the first twelve lines set up a story, and the last two bring it to a resolution. Shakespearean and Plutarchian sonnets are mostly alike, but do have different rhyme schemes and story approaches.
Iambic pentameter closely mimics human speech. I dug up this tidbit in my research, making a difference in being able to write one or not. I had stressed over words I chose fitting the pattern by looking them up in the dictionary. The light bulb went off when I realized all I had to do was read it aloud listening for the rhythm and anything sticking out needed correction. I also researched it being a perfect fit, and found out there can be a very small amount of variations to still qualify as a sonnet. I used one slant rhyme, and some variations in the iambic pentameter.
- Wrote a list outline for subject matter,
- Drafted the fourteen lines close to ten syllables,
- Picked the end rhymes for each stanza, and
- Worked on the iambic pentameter.
I decided I could work on it forever, or get somewhat close and chose the latter route. Walt Whitman kept revising his self-published work Leaves of Grass from 1855 to the end of his days. I don’t want to be Walt Whitman. Without further ado –
Arrest Her land was robbed in virginal attire: A fossil bed in fashion lined hued sand, The coastal pines intoned the ocean choir, Majestic mountains stood by His own hand. The scissor cut directed forest fires, Her swatches shorn in blackened forest floor. Bound by the gods of Delilah’s hellfire, She fought against entrance into her soul. The smoke burning darkened the sky by day, Air slipped through cracks of doors into twilight. Her cloak and dress and her lands were repayed. Delilah’s deceits ravished His birthright. The heavens poured rain in His fierce backlash; He washed away the floor plan's lifeless ash.