Well, I'm one week away from starting this whole process, which means I'm going to have to start writing this week. I figured since I started two weeks ago, I should at least get into the rhythm of posting on Tuesdays. So I'll lead off with a sonnet I wrote a while ago. I used to be really proud of it, but it's lost its luster nowadays. Still has to do with sonnets, though - very "meta".
On Sonneteering
Say the words we know we need to say.
Own these words, and bring them into light.
Never more than freedom can betray,
Never less than memory can recite.
Embrace these words, and lead them not astray;
Truth will bear these words beyond what's right.
Erudition supercedes the day;
Eloquence will sublimate the night.
Righteousness must be our shining gray,
Inconsequent of white and black's delight,
Night and day must never have their sway;
Gradients are never all that bright.
(now stop, and look at all that verbal steering.
it isn't easy work, this sonneteering.)
Enjoy, kiddies. See you next week.
(and yes, I promise not to write any more acrostics.)
May 27, 2008
May 25, 2008
Further Clarification.
After a conversation I've had tonight, I just want to clear up something that I was taking for granted. The phrase "iambic pentameter" is pretty self-explanatory to me, but I'm starting to realize that not everyone's as much of a poetry nerd as I am. So. To the guy that was trying to convince Ashley and Jami that iambic pentameter stems from Japanese haiku because they have the number five attached to both of them in some odd way:
I fear you may be misinformed. To wit,
I'll pass this definition on to you:
"A line of five metrical feet." That's it.
There's nothing there that ever has to do
with haiku; that map - five, seven, five
was bastardized when Americans
thought it'd be fun to fuck around and dive
into a form beyond their clumsy hands.
It's not syllabic count. It's rhythmic feet.
It's stresses, falls, and how they interact.
It has to do with fundamental beat,
and how they form a line when they are stacked.
Look, if after this, it's still unclear,
Then I can only tell you to click here.
Hope that clears things up a little. Yeah, I stuck a dactyl in there, and more than a few outright one-stress words, but sue me. It's frakkin' six in the morning.
I fear you may be misinformed. To wit,
I'll pass this definition on to you:
"A line of five metrical feet." That's it.
There's nothing there that ever has to do
with haiku; that map - five, seven, five
was bastardized when Americans
thought it'd be fun to fuck around and dive
into a form beyond their clumsy hands.
It's not syllabic count. It's rhythmic feet.
It's stresses, falls, and how they interact.
It has to do with fundamental beat,
and how they form a line when they are stacked.
Look, if after this, it's still unclear,
Then I can only tell you to click here.
Hope that clears things up a little. Yeah, I stuck a dactyl in there, and more than a few outright one-stress words, but sue me. It's frakkin' six in the morning.
May 20, 2008
Welcome!
Greetings, gentlefolk, and welcome to The Weekly Sonnet. Now, the site itself doesn't launch for another two weeks, but I figured I'd take this time to explain what this site is all about.
What's a sonnet?
The term "sonnet" comes from the Italian "sonetto", or "little song". The invention of the sonnet is credited to a 13th century Italian poet named Giacomo da Lentini, and popularlized by none other than Shakespeare. If you don't know who he is, you should probably get off the internet for a few minutes and read a book.
The sonnet is a fourteen-line poem that introduces, contemplates, and finishes a complete thought. Throughout the years, that thought has usually had something to do with love, philosophy, or a combination of the two, but deviations have existed since its conception. This process is typically split up into two sections: the octave, which describes the situation or idea, and the sestet, which brings the idea to a close. These two primary sections are often broken down into stanzas and/or couplets, and traditionally, sonnets are written in iambic pentameter.
In terms of rhyme scheme, sonnets typically come in two flavors; English (or Shakespearean) sonnets rock the ababcdcdefefgg, while Italian (or Petrarchan) sonnets go with a less straightforward style of abbaabbacdecde. And while these two types are the most common, everyone from Wordsworth to Dylan Thomas has popped out of these schemes at their leisure.
What's this site all about?
The Weekly Sonnet is going to be an exploration into the world of sonnets. Time has weathered the standards on what a sonnet really is, and using this site, I want to poke around in those boundaries by spinning a new sonnet every week. Some will be traditional, straight-laced works, some will push the envelope on the definition of a sonnet, and some will just be me playing around with language. But most of all, this site is my excuse to write on a regular basis. After all, I'm not exactly a writer if I don't write.
The Weekly Sonnet will officially launch on June 3rd, and will be updated on Tuesdays after that. I wish I could tell you there's a set time I'll be updating, but I drink way too much to set that in stone. I'll be shooting for the midnight before, but there will be times where I'll miss that deadline. I'm a slacker, you'll have to deal with that.
Edit: I figured out how to schedule posts, which means no late sonnets unless I really miss the boat that week. The sonnets will be posted every Tuesday at midnight.
Well, that's it for now. I hope you enjoy the poetry that's to come. Heck, I hope I enjoy it. But there's really only one way to find out. See you kids in two weeks.
What's a sonnet?
The term "sonnet" comes from the Italian "sonetto", or "little song". The invention of the sonnet is credited to a 13th century Italian poet named Giacomo da Lentini, and popularlized by none other than Shakespeare. If you don't know who he is, you should probably get off the internet for a few minutes and read a book.
The sonnet is a fourteen-line poem that introduces, contemplates, and finishes a complete thought. Throughout the years, that thought has usually had something to do with love, philosophy, or a combination of the two, but deviations have existed since its conception. This process is typically split up into two sections: the octave, which describes the situation or idea, and the sestet, which brings the idea to a close. These two primary sections are often broken down into stanzas and/or couplets, and traditionally, sonnets are written in iambic pentameter.
In terms of rhyme scheme, sonnets typically come in two flavors; English (or Shakespearean) sonnets rock the ababcdcdefefgg, while Italian (or Petrarchan) sonnets go with a less straightforward style of abbaabbacdecde. And while these two types are the most common, everyone from Wordsworth to Dylan Thomas has popped out of these schemes at their leisure.
What's this site all about?
The Weekly Sonnet is going to be an exploration into the world of sonnets. Time has weathered the standards on what a sonnet really is, and using this site, I want to poke around in those boundaries by spinning a new sonnet every week. Some will be traditional, straight-laced works, some will push the envelope on the definition of a sonnet, and some will just be me playing around with language. But most of all, this site is my excuse to write on a regular basis. After all, I'm not exactly a writer if I don't write.
The Weekly Sonnet will officially launch on June 3rd, and will be updated on Tuesdays after that. I wish I could tell you there's a set time I'll be updating, but I drink way too much to set that in stone. I'll be shooting for the midnight before, but there will be times where I'll miss that deadline. I'm a slacker, you'll have to deal with that.
Edit: I figured out how to schedule posts, which means no late sonnets unless I really miss the boat that week. The sonnets will be posted every Tuesday at midnight.
Well, that's it for now. I hope you enjoy the poetry that's to come. Heck, I hope I enjoy it. But there's really only one way to find out. See you kids in two weeks.
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