Three Poems

Hello friends,

Three sonnets this week. This first one, a Petrarchan sonnet, is in iambic monometer:

REMOTE METEOR (Sonnet)

It sprints
alone,
a stone
aglint —
its tint
and tone
a throne
of flint
that twists
and sparks
its flight
amidst
the dark
of night.

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Next, a palindromic Shakespearean sonnet in iambic pentameter:

FRANKENSTEIN (Palindrome-Sonnet)

Deeds, lives allay me. Man, not law, decide.
End loyal rot, civilian, as a god.
Parts mix a monster, frets no maker tied:
A menace.... Voltage, plate me; rip a rod.

Pale, soon to rot, stuck carcass, end a sleep!
Dial sun, age... beg a raven egg of doom.
Moors liven. Idle here, we rift, far creep....
I peer, craft fire. We’re held in evil’s room.

Mood: fog. Geneva. Rage began us, laid.
Peel sadness. A crack cuts to rot. Noose, lap.
Do rap ire, metal peg, at love.... Cane made,
I trek. A monster frets. No maxims trap.

“Dog!” As a nail I, Victor, lay — old need.
Iced Walton, name my all as evil’s deed!

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This final poem is a Shakespearean sonnet in amphibrachic tetrameter. In addition to qualitative metre, the sonnet employs the principal rules of alliterative verse: The ‘beats’ of each amphibrach (the second of the foot’s three syllables) alliterate across the first three feet of each line, with the fourth foot freed from this alliteration (e.g., in line 1, ‘phan-’ alliterates with ‘fab-’ and ‘fell’).

MARIONETTE (Sonnet)

A phantom in fabric,   she fell from the attic
and slumped on the stairs.   In my sudden dismay,
I dove like a devil —   a desperate fanatic —
and picked up the puppet.   I put it away.

A shiver then shook me —   a shudder of doom.
By dusk I was drinking.   The darkness grew fast
and with it I waited,   till warmth left the room.
The corridors creaked,   and the coldness amassed

a whistle of wind.   Soon, a whispering came:
the vaguest of voices —   evasive, a blur,
it levelled and lay,   then at last gave its name....
I fell to the floor.   It was fear. It was her.

“You left me alone —   for too long.” Still, she clings.
I hold out my hands,   but they’re held back by strings.