Valentine’s Villanelle & Sonnet Contest -post here
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1 - My Wordle
In winter deep, my daily Wordle
accords five-letter words new life
and brings a smile, if not a chortle.
So, with a smile, if not a chortle
a brief respite from worldly strife
a sojourn at etomology’s portal.
For at this age, I know I’m mortal
and life with obstacles is rife
but will five letters be my sortal?
Yet is my questing truly moral
if I resort to Rhyme Zone’s knife
shall my last gasp be ever glottal?
For if a smile if not a chortle
graces visage of kin and wife
tis my verbiage near immortal?
In winter deep, my daily Wordle
provides a momentary relief
in five letters, my daily Wordle
can bring a smile, if not a chortle.
In winter deep, my daily Wordle
accords five-letter words new life
and brings a smile, if not a chortle.
So, with a smile, if not a chortle
a brief respite from worldly strife
a sojourn at etomology’s portal.
For at this age, I know I’m mortal
and life with obstacles is rife
but will five letters be my sortal?
Yet is my questing truly moral
if I resort to Rhyme Zone’s knife
shall my last gasp be ever glottal?
For if a smile if not a chortle
graces visage of kin and wife
tis my verbiage near immortal?
In winter deep, my daily Wordle
provides a momentary relief
in five letters, my daily Wordle
can bring a smile, if not a chortle.
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Piscator
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2 - Paolo and Francesca
In homage to romance
Petty Gods with feet of clay will
Dance the devil's dance
And treasure every chance
So the selfish poets say
To elevate romance
For Paolo's eager lance
In folly lust did find a way to
Dance the devil's dance
Deceiver's bold advance
Treading flowers cast away
In homage to romance
Francesca's fearful glance
Petals falling as they may to
Dance the devil's dance
Lady kiss those tears away
You will take them to your grave
In homage to romance
Dance the devil's dance
In homage to romance
Petty Gods with feet of clay will
Dance the devil's dance
And treasure every chance
So the selfish poets say
To elevate romance
For Paolo's eager lance
In folly lust did find a way to
Dance the devil's dance
Deceiver's bold advance
Treading flowers cast away
In homage to romance
Francesca's fearful glance
Petals falling as they may to
Dance the devil's dance
Lady kiss those tears away
You will take them to your grave
In homage to romance
Dance the devil's dance
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Piscator
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3 - Shall I Compare Thee to a Winter's Night
Shall I compare thee to a winter's night
My heart's safe harbour, my warm igloo
My compass, my pathway through formless white
My constant companion, my North Star true.
As we shelter close in winter darkness
Though we shiver in February's cold
Our ardour tempers this Arctic fortress
And vouchsafes our union as we grow old.
But thy eternal winter shall not fade
Though evil gasses may force climate change
We will cover the planet in SO2 shade
To thus maintain the Earth's temperate range
So toast with sweet wine and ride lady luck,
As we jointly join this Valentine's fuck.
Shall I compare thee to a winter's night
My heart's safe harbour, my warm igloo
My compass, my pathway through formless white
My constant companion, my North Star true.
As we shelter close in winter darkness
Though we shiver in February's cold
Our ardour tempers this Arctic fortress
And vouchsafes our union as we grow old.
But thy eternal winter shall not fade
Though evil gasses may force climate change
We will cover the planet in SO2 shade
To thus maintain the Earth's temperate range
So toast with sweet wine and ride lady luck,
As we jointly join this Valentine's fuck.
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Piscator
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4 - Misanthrope's Love Song
Ding Dang I'm writing another sonnet
and the theme is lovely love and romance.
Don't feel that soft glow, I'm more farblunget.*
Button my buttons and zip up my pants!
Is Cupid hiding twixt the light fixtures,
painting his arrow with Eau de Love Spell?
He can forget those Potteresque mixtures:
flowery falling sounds like my fresh Hell.
I'm no callow virgin: I've played this game;
I once gave my heart over freely, glad,
but my love is gone and I'm not the same.
Now romantic gestures just make me mad.
So take this screed as a definite sign:
Find someone else for your sweet Valentine.
*farblunget: confused, dazed
Ding Dang I'm writing another sonnet
and the theme is lovely love and romance.
Don't feel that soft glow, I'm more farblunget.*
Button my buttons and zip up my pants!
Is Cupid hiding twixt the light fixtures,
painting his arrow with Eau de Love Spell?
He can forget those Potteresque mixtures:
flowery falling sounds like my fresh Hell.
I'm no callow virgin: I've played this game;
I once gave my heart over freely, glad,
but my love is gone and I'm not the same.
Now romantic gestures just make me mad.
So take this screed as a definite sign:
Find someone else for your sweet Valentine.
*farblunget: confused, dazed
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5 - === For You ===
listen to my cries, and call me a whore
for I am not your wife, and you are no
husband of mine; for you, for you I fuck
with unquenchable lust, always begging for more
while the bed springs scream, and undreaming neighbours
listen to my cries, and call me a whore
and bang on the walls… but you, my young buck
care nothing for them, and nothing for that
husband of mine; for you, for you I fuck
till deliciously used and exquisitely sore
till filled with cream in my quivering core
listen to my cries, and call me a whore
as on my knees I adoringly suck
with lips that - later - will kiss that most jealous
husband of mine; for you, for you I fuck
and spare no thought for the envious cuck
who watches all - ah, but watch me, my love
listen to my cries, and call me a whore
husband of mine; for you, for you I fuck
listen to my cries, and call me a whore
for I am not your wife, and you are no
husband of mine; for you, for you I fuck
with unquenchable lust, always begging for more
while the bed springs scream, and undreaming neighbours
listen to my cries, and call me a whore
and bang on the walls… but you, my young buck
care nothing for them, and nothing for that
husband of mine; for you, for you I fuck
till deliciously used and exquisitely sore
till filled with cream in my quivering core
listen to my cries, and call me a whore
as on my knees I adoringly suck
with lips that - later - will kiss that most jealous
husband of mine; for you, for you I fuck
and spare no thought for the envious cuck
who watches all - ah, but watch me, my love
listen to my cries, and call me a whore
husband of mine; for you, for you I fuck
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6 - Vision
Looking across the yard I see you love,
wagon of wood drawn up country incline,
intent on your project, my sweet, my dove.
sonnet written of sight, of scent, divine.
Looking across the car I see you Ma'am,
maybe watching scenery passing outside,
thinking about church friends, Nancy and Sam?
Sonnet written pensive, Sunday's we drive.
And all of the poets ever to be,
the jive and the rockers, learned, free verse,
could say what a treasure you've meant to me,
The words fill my old heart near to bursting.
So know this my loves, if you know naught else.
this day I send a gift of words myself
Looking across the yard I see you love,
wagon of wood drawn up country incline,
intent on your project, my sweet, my dove.
sonnet written of sight, of scent, divine.
Looking across the car I see you Ma'am,
maybe watching scenery passing outside,
thinking about church friends, Nancy and Sam?
Sonnet written pensive, Sunday's we drive.
And all of the poets ever to be,
the jive and the rockers, learned, free verse,
could say what a treasure you've meant to me,
The words fill my old heart near to bursting.
So know this my loves, if you know naught else.
this day I send a gift of words myself
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7 - Be My Valentine?
By now I thought you’d understand my true feelings for you
but still, you treat me like I am a brother or a pal
Instead, I yearn to hold you close in case you misconstrue.
I long to taste those smiling lips denying rational
and lie along your shapely form on beaches or in bed
make love to you on sunlit days in our private chaparral
You brush me off leaving me feeling like a knucklehead,
I won’t be deterred, put off, or denied but keep on track
to win your heart, your mind, and then to take your maidenhead.
so far so good, you spurn me not, no negative feedback
I am copasetic in my way, eye on the goal line
steady and sure, praying that this is not a cul-de-sac.
confidence tells me it’s time to risk breaking the fault line
here on bended knee, I ask - will you be my valentine?
By now I thought you’d understand my true feelings for you
but still, you treat me like I am a brother or a pal
Instead, I yearn to hold you close in case you misconstrue.
I long to taste those smiling lips denying rational
and lie along your shapely form on beaches or in bed
make love to you on sunlit days in our private chaparral
You brush me off leaving me feeling like a knucklehead,
I won’t be deterred, put off, or denied but keep on track
to win your heart, your mind, and then to take your maidenhead.
so far so good, you spurn me not, no negative feedback
I am copasetic in my way, eye on the goal line
steady and sure, praying that this is not a cul-de-sac.
confidence tells me it’s time to risk breaking the fault line
here on bended knee, I ask - will you be my valentine?
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8 - A Sonnet is as a Sonnet Does
A sonnet for my dear? It seems absurd–
a fruitless task, a mission im-pos-sibla
to try and capture Love with only words
or paint the shape of hearts in sonnetina.
Though masters of each form have duly spent
apprenticeships–and more–in vain pursuit,
most efforts missed their mark and so were sent
straight to the dross-pile labeled deaf/blind/mute.
How does a timid heart hold moon and stars,
endure so much and still maintain its beat?
Mere flesh and blood encompass Venus, Mars?
Minds replicate in art this awesome feat?
We try and try again–accept we'll miss:
rely, instead, on magic in a kiss.
A sonnet for my dear? It seems absurd–
a fruitless task, a mission im-pos-sibla
to try and capture Love with only words
or paint the shape of hearts in sonnetina.
Though masters of each form have duly spent
apprenticeships–and more–in vain pursuit,
most efforts missed their mark and so were sent
straight to the dross-pile labeled deaf/blind/mute.
How does a timid heart hold moon and stars,
endure so much and still maintain its beat?
Mere flesh and blood encompass Venus, Mars?
Minds replicate in art this awesome feat?
We try and try again–accept we'll miss:
rely, instead, on magic in a kiss.
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9 - Sonnet on the Importance of Being Heard
each mail he used to send was filled with art–
a Valentine composed of rustic views
of skies and woodlands, sloping hills to chart,
of ponds and critters, chores and country news–
by snail or electronic, filled the years
both fast and slow that passed as two hearts yearned
to share a bed, a life, all joys and fears,
how patience was a virtue–lessons learned
but best of all and most important, too,
he shared his thoughts, communing mind to mind
and welcoming my own, as lovers do
for being heard is vital, don't we find
as through this carousel of life's great ride
our place is with each other, side by side
each mail he used to send was filled with art–
a Valentine composed of rustic views
of skies and woodlands, sloping hills to chart,
of ponds and critters, chores and country news–
by snail or electronic, filled the years
both fast and slow that passed as two hearts yearned
to share a bed, a life, all joys and fears,
how patience was a virtue–lessons learned
but best of all and most important, too,
he shared his thoughts, communing mind to mind
and welcoming my own, as lovers do
for being heard is vital, don't we find
as through this carousel of life's great ride
our place is with each other, side by side
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Piscator
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10 - True Love Never Runs Easy
Red roses in crystal or cakes shaped like hearts.
Boxes of chocolates or valentine's cards.
These are all hopeful romantic head starts.
Certain that my heart might end up in shards
I tentatively offer my hand to you
expecting rejection in mannerly note-cards.
Imagine my wonderment when out of the blue
you accepted my invite with gracious aplomb.
I could not believe it, too good to be true.
I asked you to email me at happy.com
and waited in eagerness for the familiar sound,
then I got transferred to Dar es Salaam.
While trying to settle on alien ground
my mind was perpetually thinking of
your image, and I knew I was spellbound.
Life isn’t easy and falling in love
my mind is perpetually thinking of
red roses in crystal or cakes shaped like hearts
These are all hopeful romantic head starts.
Red roses in crystal or cakes shaped like hearts.
Boxes of chocolates or valentine's cards.
These are all hopeful romantic head starts.
Certain that my heart might end up in shards
I tentatively offer my hand to you
expecting rejection in mannerly note-cards.
Imagine my wonderment when out of the blue
you accepted my invite with gracious aplomb.
I could not believe it, too good to be true.
I asked you to email me at happy.com
and waited in eagerness for the familiar sound,
then I got transferred to Dar es Salaam.
While trying to settle on alien ground
my mind was perpetually thinking of
your image, and I knew I was spellbound.
Life isn’t easy and falling in love
my mind is perpetually thinking of
red roses in crystal or cakes shaped like hearts
These are all hopeful romantic head starts.
Piscator
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11 - Sonnet of the Over-Eager Lover
O Valentine, you make me frisky!
I want to chase you 'round the bed,
Engage in sex, say something risky--
Reciting Poe while giving head.
For cunnilingus can be scary.
Your tell-tale heart becomes quite wary
Of my swift tongue, its darts and stabs,
As if with swirls it wants to grab
Your genitals for some quite nasty
Demonic rite. But hold! Perhaps
I'd best calm down lest I collapse
And need another angioplasty.
I guess in my advancèd years,
I'll stick with one chaste kiss, my dear.
O Valentine, you make me frisky!
I want to chase you 'round the bed,
Engage in sex, say something risky--
Reciting Poe while giving head.
For cunnilingus can be scary.
Your tell-tale heart becomes quite wary
Of my swift tongue, its darts and stabs,
As if with swirls it wants to grab
Your genitals for some quite nasty
Demonic rite. But hold! Perhaps
I'd best calm down lest I collapse
And need another angioplasty.
I guess in my advancèd years,
I'll stick with one chaste kiss, my dear.
Piscator
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12- Debating Romance (Italian sonnet)
I’m not one for fancy cards or flowers,
wine and chocolates leave me quite cold.
Romance in general bores me all told,
some people relish it for what it empowers.
Heartbreak, euphoria, both ends of the scale
Longing, rejection, uncertainty ruled.
Dreaming in class, a teacher not fooled
impatiently tapping her red fingernail.
Notes flying freely, secrets abound
“Be my only one” ” Meet me tonight.”
Sometimes accepted, many times not.
Composing a message of esteem profound,
fantasizing kissing her a goodnight.
Tying himself in a Gordian knot.
I’m not one for fancy cards or flowers,
wine and chocolates leave me quite cold.
Romance in general bores me all told,
some people relish it for what it empowers.
Heartbreak, euphoria, both ends of the scale
Longing, rejection, uncertainty ruled.
Dreaming in class, a teacher not fooled
impatiently tapping her red fingernail.
Notes flying freely, secrets abound
“Be my only one” ” Meet me tonight.”
Sometimes accepted, many times not.
Composing a message of esteem profound,
fantasizing kissing her a goodnight.
Tying himself in a Gordian knot.
Piscator
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13 - Love's Fortune (Terza Rima Sonnet)
The Moon watches me silvery shining
and whispers night falls, the Sun is abed.
The hour compels time for divining
for questions that ask where fortune be led,
and so yarrow reeds are shaken and thrown,
the lines thus divined and future thus read:
Rain weeps down the mountain, wind at the stone,
all lines unchanging, no new love is born.
Future like yesterday, future alone
I breathe in the silence, edging toward morn,
dwelling on memories of you my sweet.
I grow in the quiet. There is no storm.
We had a fortune that made us complete.
Dear Valentine, you live with my heart's beat.
The Moon watches me silvery shining
and whispers night falls, the Sun is abed.
The hour compels time for divining
for questions that ask where fortune be led,
and so yarrow reeds are shaken and thrown,
the lines thus divined and future thus read:
Rain weeps down the mountain, wind at the stone,
all lines unchanging, no new love is born.
Future like yesterday, future alone
I breathe in the silence, edging toward morn,
dwelling on memories of you my sweet.
I grow in the quiet. There is no storm.
We had a fortune that made us complete.
Dear Valentine, you live with my heart's beat.
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14 - My Valentine’s Curse
In either first grade or kindergarten
I first fell prey to the Valentine's curse
when I got but five cards. all others ten
and from there, my fate went from bad to worse.
By middle school, my place in class was clear
my sneakers neither Jordans nor Converse
under their jibes, I shed many a tear
as they all would taunt my Valentines' verse.
But it was in High School I learned to fear
pretty girls who with legs and bosom tease
and on February fourteenth of each year
need more than chocolate to be pleased.
Long ago memories of times now past
yet from these times my fate was cast.
In either first grade or kindergarten
I first fell prey to the Valentine's curse
when I got but five cards. all others ten
and from there, my fate went from bad to worse.
By middle school, my place in class was clear
my sneakers neither Jordans nor Converse
under their jibes, I shed many a tear
as they all would taunt my Valentines' verse.
But it was in High School I learned to fear
pretty girls who with legs and bosom tease
and on February fourteenth of each year
need more than chocolate to be pleased.
Long ago memories of times now past
yet from these times my fate was cast.
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Piscator
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Postscript - Four and Ten poems for Valentine's Day
Four and ten poems for Valentine's Day
love and lust neatly fixed within strict lines
as poets young and old each in own way
with tender words plead - whist thou be mine?
Verse crafted with care, minding meter and foot
with due consideration, was each line put
in order to with formal form agree
though sometimes varied to prevent ennui.
Using words suggestive but never crude
sweet things, fruitful flowers, and birds in nest
speak not of debauchery, nor gonads lewd
build joint passion and hormones will do the rest.
Thanks to all of you for joining our play
and to all I send this
floral bouquet.
for all will be revealed on Saturday.
Four and ten poems for Valentine's Day
love and lust neatly fixed within strict lines
as poets young and old each in own way
with tender words plead - whist thou be mine?
Verse crafted with care, minding meter and foot
with due consideration, was each line put
in order to with formal form agree
though sometimes varied to prevent ennui.
Using words suggestive but never crude
sweet things, fruitful flowers, and birds in nest
speak not of debauchery, nor gonads lewd
build joint passion and hormones will do the rest.
Thanks to all of you for joining our play
and to all I send this
floral bouquet.for all will be revealed on Saturday.
Last edited:
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