“I shall try to write a sonnet,” I said,
And I did my best to give it a shape.
The silly rules and rhymes popped in my head,
Made my mind numb and my mouth go agape.
“How can I, who ain’t a poet,” I asked,
“Give shine to a sonnet’s special gleaming?”
The words would not compose themselves, as tasked;
Instead, they dulled on my lips from screaming.
But then I found the courage to persist,
From wisdom or folly I do not know.
I hammered at my words with brain and fist,
Until a worthy shape began to show.
Brute force had prevailed; oh the end had neared.
The pain is ended; a sonnet appeared.
Author’s Note: This is my very first sonnet. I was asked to write one in the 8th grade, but I never got past the first quatrain. Although I’m not a poet, I’ve always been fascinated by sonnets. Now that I’ve written one, my head hurts. I’d rather write novels.
For anyone who is curious, this poem is a Shakespearean or English sonnet. This means that I attempted to use the Shakespearean rhyme scheme, I attempted to get it into iambic pentameter, I attempted to provide a volta, and that I tried to use a poetic device. At some point, when I’m feeling particularly masochistic, I might even try to attempt an Italian sonnet.