Forget the Round Robin. How about a Sonnet?

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I had originally thought we could do a Round Robin based on it, but the post about the Roddy McDowall party has evolved into this blithering idea.  Look at the photos and then read on...



Imagine this: the topic is eating peaches, and the person eating the peach is Illya Kuryakin.  You can certainly add in Napoleon, but the peach and Illya are at the core of the sonnet.  This is a new category for us here on Section VII, but it could be fun.  Try out your poetic prowess on this subject matter.

The format is iambic pentameter , and the rhyming scheme is A B B A A B B A C D E C D E  Take a look at the example below.
From On His Blindness by Milton...On His Blindness by Milton

  When I consider how my light is spent (a)
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, (b)
And that one talent which is death to hide, (b)
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent (a)
To serve therewith my Maker, and present (a)
My true account, lest he returning chide; (b)
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" (b)
I fondly ask; but Patience to prevent (a)
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need (c)
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best (d)
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state (e)
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed (c)
And post o'er land and ocean without rest; (d)
They also serve who only stand and wait." (e)
I think either will be fun, maybe even both.  Let's hear about what you think.

Comments

[aconitumn.livejournal.com]

I'm kind of self-disqualified because I had already started writing one (I'm doing the 'poem a day' challenge) and did it to the Shakesperean sonnet rules. But here it is anyway.

When rose-soft lips are parted with a moan,
and tongue darts out and moistened heated breath
slips into air and mingles with your own,
then you would kiss them if it meant your death.

And then, your own lips parted wide, you lean,
and lift a hand to toy with golden hair,
and raise your eyes upon blue eyes so keen,
awaiting such soft kisses with your pair.

It seems, you think, he only wants your love.
It seems, you think, he’s waiting for your touch.
Your lips fit his, you know, like hand in glove,
and ev’ry part of you needs him so much.

And then you see his eyes are led elsewhere,
and peaches slip between those lips so fair.