Zero to Hero, a Guide - 13. Poetry Prompt 9 – Sonnet 01

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Poetry Prompt 9 – Sonnet 01

Let’s Write an English-Style Sonnet!

There are fundamentally two types of Sonnets: English and Italian. The English Sonnet has about the easiest definition of any poetic form. It’s three quatrains and a couplet; that’s it. But, oh what magic can flow from that combination, for it’s like Goethe said, “Mastery appears in limitation of form, and order alone can give us freedom.”

The history of the Sonnet dates back to Medieval French roots, but later Italian poets made it well known. In the 16th century, English writers began to experiment with how the older form was constructed, and by Shakespeare’s time, the new shape was set.

So, as easy as the form actually is, the freedom for the poet lies in using the quatrains to establish and then develop a theme. The couplet comes in at the end to verify, refute, celebrate, or destroy the message of the poem. It’s all up to the sonneteer, and it all comes down to a ‘pivot point.’

Think of it like listening to a piece of music. If the composition were all happy and breezy, the music might fail to connect with the listener. However, if the composer introduces a change in tempo, a slip into a minor key, then the happy-go-lucky original theme is suddenly placed in context, and the hearer knows there is depth to the composition.

With the Sonnet, this ‘change of key’ (the pivot point) usually happens with one of the quatrains.[1] Let’s look at an example in summary form. Shakespeare’s W. H. Sonnet 44 breaks down like this:

- 1st quatrain: If thoughts were flesh, nothing would keep us apart.

- 2nd quatrain: Then neither land nor sea would stop me from being with you.

(pivot point)

- 3rd quatrain: BUT, thought is thought and elements are elements.

- Couplet: So I must pay tribute to my flesh as the earth, and my tears as the water; both keep us apart.

Or, here’s the same breakdown for number 58:

- 1st quatrain: God forbid I tell should you what to do.

(pivot point)

- 2nd quatrain: SO, let me suffer without blaming you for who’s trying to kiss you.

- 3rd quatrain: I have faith in your character; you’ll do no wrong by me.

- Couplet: Waiting may be hell, but not as much hell as accusing you.

In W. H. Sonnet 55, he waited until the end for the break:

- 1st quatrain: You’ll outlive history and monuments in my poetry.

- 2nd quatrain: Not war, nor rebellions, nor coup d’état shall burn your memory.

- 3rd quatrain: There will be room for you in the future despite all the death and hate in the world.

(pivot point)

- Couplet: SO, until judgment day comes, you will live here, in lovers’ eyes.

I hope you can come to see how much potential and flexibility the Sonnet offers; the possibilities seem endless for capturing emotions in a narrative style.

You have all the tools to write your own Sonnet: you’ve practiced with the quatrain (a 4-lined sentence of verse, rhymed a-b-a-b, and having 10 syllables per line), and the couplet (a 2-lined sentence of verse, rhymed a-a, and having 10 syllables per line), so feel empowered to try your own. Do not be intimidated by the useless notions that Sonnets must be difficult, or that they are antiques, for the form can easily accommodate any modern notion or vocabulary. It’s just a structure, so start building on it, and have fun.

The Prompt: write one English Sonnet about your first love. Remember, we are looking for the pivot point, so if the love ended sadly, contrast that with a moment of brightness; if it was joyous, contrast it with a moment of doubt that might not last, etc., etc. You get the idea.

(As an aid, I have written a small piece on basic rhyming technique. It can be found here: https://gayauthors.org/blogs/entry/15424-rhyming-is-fundamental/ )

For further inspiration.

Henry Howard:

Alas, so all things now do hold their peace!

Heaven and earth disturbèd in no thing;

The beasts, the air, the birds their song do cease,

The night’s car the stars about doth bring;

Calm is the sea; the waves work less and less:

So am not I, whom love, alas! doth wring,

Bringing before my face the great increase

Of my desires, whereat I weep and sing,

In joy and woe, as in a doubtful case.

For my sweet thoughts sometime do pleasure bring:

But by and by, the cause of my disgrace

Gives me a pang that inwardly doth sting,

When that I think what grief it is again

To live and lack the thing should rid my pain.

Thomas Watt:

My heart I gave thee, not to do it pain;

But to preserve, it was to thee taken.

I served thee, not to be forsaken,

But that I should be rewarded again.

I was content thy servant to remain

But not to be paid under this fashion.

Now since in thee is none other reason,

Displease thee not if that I do refrain,

Unsatiate of my woe and thy desire,

Assured by craft to excuse thy fault.

But since it please thee to feign a default,

Farewell, I say, parting from the fire:

For he that believeth bearing in hand,

Plougheth in water and soweth in the sand.

Farewell, love, and all thy laws forever,

Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more.

Senec and Plato call me from thy lore

To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavor.

In blind error when I did persever,

Thy sharp repulse that pricketh aye so sore

Taught me in trifles that I set no store,

But scape forth, since liberty is dearer.

Therefore, farewell, go trouble younger hearts,

And in me claim no more authority;

With idle youth go use thy property,

And thereon spend thy many brittle darts.

For hitherto though I have lost my time,

Me wished no longer rotten boughs to climb.

Avising the bright beams of these fair eyes

Where he is that mine oft moisteth and washeth,

The worried mind straight from the heart departeth

For to rest his worldly paradise

And find the sweet bitter under this guise.

What webs he hath wrought well he perceiveth,

Whereby with himself on Love he plaineth

That spurreth with fire and bridleth with ice.

Thus is it in such extremity brought:

In frozen thought now, and now it standeth in flame,

‘Twixt misery and wealth, ‘twixt earnest and game,

But few glad and many a diverse thought,

With sore repentance of his hardiness.

Of such a root cometh fruit fruitless.

My galley charged with forgetfulness

Through sharp seas in winter nights doth pass

Tween rock and rock, and eke my foe (alas)

That is my lord, steereth with cruelness.

And every oar, a thought in readiness,

As though that death were light in such a case;

An endless wind doth tear the sail apace

Of forced sighs and trusty fearfulness;

A rain of tears, a cloud of dark distain,

Have done the wearied cords great hinderance;

Wreathed with error and eke with ignorance,

The stars be hid that lead me to this pain.

Drowned is reason that should me consort,

And I remain, despairing of the port.

Though I myself be bridled of my mind,

Returning me backward by force express,

If thou seek honour to keep thy promise,

Who may thee hold, my heart, but thou thyself unbind?

Sigh then no more since no way man may find

Thy virtue to let though that frowardness

Of fortune me holdeth; and yet as I may guess,

Though other be present, thou art not all behind.

Suffice it then that thou be ready there

At all hours, still under the defence

Of time, truth, and love to save thee from offence,

Crying, “I burn in a lovely desire

With my dear master’s that may not follow,

Whereby his absence turneth him to sorrow.”

“My galley charged with forgetfulness . . . ”

I find no peace, and all my war is done:

I fear, and hope; I burn, and freeze like ice;

I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;

And nought I have, and all the world I seize on;

That locketh nor loseth holdeth me in prison,

And holdeth me not, yet can I ‘scape nowise:

Nor letteth me live, nor die at my devise,

And yet of death it giveth me occasion.

Without eyen I see, and without tongue I ‘plain;

I desire to perish, and yet I ask health;

I love another, and thus I hate myself;

I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain.

Likewise displeaseth me both death and life,

And my delight is causer of this strife.

Was I never yet of your love grieved

Nor never shall while that my life doth last.

But of hating myself that date is past

And tears continual sore have me wearied.

I will not yet in my grave be buried

Nor on my tomb your name be fixèd fast

As cruel cause that did the spirit soon haste

From th’unhappy bones by great sighs stirred.

Then if an heart of amorous faith and will

May content you without doing grief,

Please it you so to this to do relief.

If otherwise ye seek for to fulfill

Your disdain, be err and shall not as be ween,

And ye yourself the cause thereof hath been.