Italian Sonnet Poems | Italian Sonnet Examples

Attempt, attempt, attempt, I try, I do, but find success a frightful,fretful sort of creature.—.landing always just so short for you,—my victories?: far less than few. From void to verse then verse now void,—but you reject my voice,else’y*u[ / , u ]d*stort it, and to good will ill intent impart; My inspiration, skewered by your view, lies fallow in your lap.—Tell, what’s...

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A(nother) (Sh*tty) Sonnet Cute girl who works the local liquor store counter, I wonder sometimes how I strike you.—am I happy in your eyes?—do you like to speak, when daily, as a steady chore, I stroll onto your heavenly sales floor? (You said it was another day (yes fake) ‘in paradise’, in answer to my joke.— —and then I left with my...

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having aged, we’re no longer in our prime yet vibrance of our heart remains intact tweets of love continuing to transact each moment deemed as the optimal time heart sings a song and we dance to its chime lost in ambedo trance, God’s grace attract and as bliss beats with our form make contact resting in stillness mind conjures a rhyme one...

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how long and sourly sobs the lonely heart depends on how grave the weight which grieves the tears pouring from the despondent spirit’s pores.— a witness, too, will know the surly sort of rain that beats down harshly on the court called Sorrow Drive.—sure seems like nothing cheers up the—nor nothing soothes the—nasty fears nesting in somber nooks.—no, only art comes close to...

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O’ dear, I learned today you’re spoken for; I asked the question, got the answer: “no”. Ayayaye…but, considering the blow wasn’t so bad, I’m glad I tried to score. Oh dear,—(I must admit)—you know what’s more?, you’ve snatched the beauty right out from this low world; o’ diamond, why must you hoard it so? All other charms have lost their glow, they...

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The lady looking up had said that “good was bad” and then had added, “all was well”; Tripped up on his feet, and after her fall, she who was glad was then made madly sad. But the man stooping down from where he stood replied that “bad was good” and “well was all”; Though with his words he’d made the...

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Observe the modern generations walk on by; they suckle from the plastic teat of coffee cups, and stumped by stamping feet they shamble unaware from flock to flock.— infant adults—if earnest I may speak; Look there: one loops in circles (a grand feat!) and, as if an ornithological suite, the gaggle shuffles behind,—“squawk squawk squawk!” Yikes… I suppose that if I ran...

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Though matter may not be destroyed, the form must be deformed; absolute fluidity demands—with absolute rigidity— that bonds made break free from an unstable frame.— Erratic molecules and particles swarm beyond the confines of lucidity; But we, in stupor (and stupidity), (poor things), give to fluidity a name… I mean to say: Destruction is a must! For,—given that something new’s to be built—, creation draws...

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Love sends a signal (so intangible) through time removed and space—more faraway than high heavens, sun, spark of moody day when Night her might has made immoveable. The bold heart beats, but shyly (:¡magical!:) hides a gross ache—(perhaps gone quite astray)— of love destroyed by space and time. A ray has passed and left behind a palpable shadow.—but time’s the healer, space...

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Toppled by a bottle, collapsed upon her painful past, asleep—but well awake!—, unmoving, but for her mind stirred aquake, the girl is yawning before her black dawn. Alone, couched by a burning blanket drawn over a conscience guilty at the stake, slipping into the sly hands of the snake, she sees not clearly the sickening con which lures her slowly to her deathly...

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I woke this morning, lying next to you; Contemplating your thighs, your breasts, your face, as you still slept at rest in a dream’s embrace, my eyes all over your fair features flew… I lingered here and there—a glance askew caught subtle movements in that furtive place beneath your eyelids, wondering what chase your soul pursued in the other blue… You then...

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—it’s the black boil on bursting, boiling ribs— on my midleft chest, brewing bungled churns, [tighteningmybreath], again, again, it yearns, it begs*, “just one (just two) more (well-earned) rub(s)!” —giving in, it’s just picking at the scabs— first brief relief( ):the itch at once returns as soon’s the finger’s left the welt; it burns and gnaws...

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Meet me—by the abandoned houses—>there not here<—, for it’s a danger! to be seen in such ill company as I__I mean: if strangers knew how strange was our affair, they’d **** us!—meet me when night has grown fair, bring gifts (flowers) (for nothing’s more obscene in such situation as we are keen). Though I’m well loath to leave you unaware, you’ll must need...

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O’ Pat Pattison, you, my brilliant teacher, I would shower in praises, had you not taught me better! for cliches void of thought are as worthwhile as a couch surfin’ moocher! O’ masterful and deepest sort of creature, shocked then, in the thrall of churning wounds, distraught I found your grace—and for my breaking clot you gave me poetry, this soothing suture....

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Crepuscule creeps along the cusp of daylight, encroaching duly on the day’s blond glow. As lumbering dusk steps upon its foe, Flowing forth spills the wine of sanguine twilight. Behind the ruby blush, with runaway light, a dazzled sky, baffled by the overflow of effervescent stars, begins to show the milky way’s great triumph, it’s broad highlight. And now that night...

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