Winter shares a room with three other Seasons
The Moon and the Sun breathe the same Air
The Forests embrace the Rain
The Flowers don’t need to impress each other
The Wind moves the Dirt
The Ocean kisses the Sky and meets the Sand

And then there is man…

Who wants his Land and won’t share
Who doesn’t like getting stuck in the Rain
Thinks he’s more superior than the next man
A man-kind of pollution that poisons the Air and litters the Earth
Who swims in the Ocean and walks on the Sand
Who are we to think we can?


Alone left unattended
Inside my world of consciousness
Unused and lost in my wrinkled womb
Wasted and neglected cerebral spawn
Lay lifeless inside of me
Unattached from umbilical circuits
New ideas are born but never breathe
Misplaced inside a migraine
Miscarried from birth

The Rose

There sits a rose on the top of a hill
that not many have dared to climb
For if one ever got to the top of this hill
they’d feel nothing short of divine
They say the climb is threatening to life
The dangers are more than a few
But once you meet the rose at it’s heavenly height
the Love will enchant within you
Enlightened by wonder and on a quest for Love
I traveled to this tell tale place
I looked up to the top from my bottom view
The blood rushed right out of my face
Scared to move closer, challenged by fear
And then the hill began to glow
It invited me up so I started to climb
There was something it didn’t want me to know
I was halfway up when I looked down to the ground
and the wind almost blew me away
Then a vine appeared so I grabbed on tight
and kept going up on my way
Gasp by gasp I knew I was close
when the vibrant red light warmed the air
I felt the beauty enter my heart
Nothing else could even compare
I finally pulled towards the end of the way
and the rose appeared to shine
I reach up in hopes to touch the rose
but I needed one more pull up the vine
I pulled with my life, my eyes glued to the rose
and a thorn pricked my hand and I gave
So I started to fall towards the pull of Love’s spell
and I fell right into my grave

2 Sonnets

I love poetry. I love reading it and writing it. It’s my passion and hope to be able to do this for a living and it’s my dream to hopefully one day publish some of my work.

The following poem is an English sonnet written in 10 syllables per line. I’m not sure if it contains 5 iambic feet. It probably doesn’t.That confuses me.

I’m thinking that this poem can become something bigger, like Canterbury Tales or something . I may or may not add to this down the road and make it a fictional story created by different sonnets.

I heard a myth from a man of the sea
That the blood from Mermaids turns into gold
I asked him how he gained word to tell me
He began the story to me he told
Over a few bottles of rum we talked
And I noticed he was drunk off his mind
I trust his tale though he couldn’t much walk
This drunken pirate was one of a kind
So after he finished the tale he spoke
I knew that this was a trek I must take
To embark on my journey, one man broke
I should set sail when the morning awakes
You may be thinking how foolish but yet
What a man must do to even his debt


I was inspired to write my first sonnet a couple of months ago and the topic I chose was how to write a sonnet because it is not the easiest task to follow the correct form. I challenged myself and was able to do it but I thought it would be a little more interesting to write it in the form of an acrostic poem. This poem is also an English Sonnet with 10 syllables each line.

It was tough to fit in some words because syllables in words can be deceiving and we tend to pronounce words with no regard to their syllables. For example…the word “different”. It is pronounced with 2 syllables but it really has 3.

A helpful site in finding out how many syllables words are : http://www.howmanysyllables.com/index.html


Well written words that follow a meter
Rhythm and rhyming and the pattern flows
In proper form to impress the readers
Tally the syllables in all the rows
Equal in quatrains, three different sets
And a couplet which is placed at the end
Sonnets are written and must look their best
Overlook nothing, make sure to emend
Now that you have written up to nine lines
Nearly approaching not far from fourteen
Enlighten yourself to think of a rhyme
That can wrap up all your thoughts at the seams

It’s fun to write sonnets, don’t you agree?
Now try to write one acrostically!

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