The LL2 Sonnet Cycle: More Poetic Explication

 

The other day I found some awesome sonnets—

each work from students in an English class.

So, full of motivation, I, upon this

quite humble blog wrote comments I’ve amassed.

Admittedly, some written works are mine,

so I will try my best to spoil not.

I’ll deeper dive into each written line

that, to the cycle, other students brought.

Now if you’ve noticed, yes, I speak iambic,

though maybe sonnet form is much to ask.

But still, I’ll try some rhyme and structure, granted

it’s def’nitely a stimulating task.

     So buckle up, and keep an eye out, for

     your sonnet will be here! (when I write more...)

1.

“One at a Time”

I say to you in words but soft and small,

with ten per line, one at a time at most,

for words of length do scare me more than all:

For me, one lick per word is best to host.

Yet double-structured lexemes nestle too,

and maybe someday written essays from

myself allow themselves to happen through

much longer phrases, when I must succumb.

Substantial elements could quick arise

if hastily I tripled syllables.

Quadruple, even? Soon accessorize

sophistically, so unpredictable?

For now, though, I will stick to plain of rhymes:

In words so short and clear, one at a time.

To start, we have a writer, troubled, for

in using lengthy words, they are unsure.

The speaker starts with words “but soft and small”,

but gradually the words grow rather tall,

to “longer phrases” “unpredictable”,

Each stanza may unlock a syllable.

Yet “someday” they might find the strength within

to find themselves, and truly go all-in.

2.

“A Perfectionist’s Problems”

My mind is full of lists and dates and work;

I wonder when my life became a race.

The tests and such at every corner lurk,

Prepared to swing and hit me in the face.

I try my best to clear the hazy blur;

My notes are neat, a candle fills the room

With floral scents to calm the speedy whir

Of thoughts appearing, surely bringing doom.

And yet no matter just how hard I try,

The perfect student I will never be.

Distraction overcomes me by and by;

A life of beauty’s all I wish to see.

“But look around!” that little voice screams out,

“You’re blessed, so live your life without a doubt.”

Next, a struggling student feels but trapped,

for in self-expectations they are wrapped.

They yearn to be the “perfect student” yet

“no matter just how hard [they] try” they fret.

They’re overwhelmed and try to “clear the [...] blur”

so being “neat” and perfect they prefer.

But at the volta, something changes in

their thoughts, and optimism may begin.

No use in worry—simply let it go.

So carpe diem, live life with the flow.

3.

“The ‘Fisher’ Man”

Ambition leads to heavy worry, like

The fisherman who sets his netted fyke,

In hope of catching many fish, although

Few swimming fish have been within the flow.

His parents nag for every second lost,

They’re wasted on the many nets he tossed.

The village points and laughs, still talks of him,

They mock a man whose light is growing dim.

Few devotions; no kid, no pets, no wife.

He’s pushed by many to speed up his life.

While sitting and watching the ripples on

The water, a conclusion he has drawn.

He does not care for what the river yields,

He merely comes to watch the deep green fields.

A fascinating tale this sonnet tells,

one full of many subtle parallels.

A fisherman does not catch many fish,

but watching “deep green fields” is his true wish.

When zooming out, we find a theme that’s real

for in the end, wealth’s not the true appeal.

Although he is ambitious at the start, 

His reasoning does change within his heart.

To that, I truly must relate to him,

for mindfulness in nature’s found again.

Just stop and smell the roses; leave out strife:

No need to rush or chase the best in life.

4.

“Jazmin”

I try with best of my ability

To understand why you decide to stay;

Must you endure such volatility

If you’d get more from not giving away?

I think of every time you’ve said to me,

“It won’t remain this way for long, I’m sure,”

Though in each instance it is clear to see

How quickly I succumb seems without cure.

But I can see the smile across your face

When you can tell your words in me sit heavy;

And suddenly that feeling is erased

My thoughts you rearranged, no longer messied—

So through belief of seeing love untrue,

If you so wish, I will believe in you.

I love the ambiguity in this.

I’ve tried my best decoding, yet I’ll miss

some details still, so please feel free to comment!

Here’s my interpretation of this sonnet:

The speaker struggles comprehending why

their partner stays with them although they sigh

and vent so “volatile,” with many problems.

“Succumb[ing] quick,” but could somebody solve ‘em?

Their partner comforts them, and “words [...] sit heavy.”

They now feel better, thoughts “no longer messied.”

“[...] that feeling,” doubt, despair—it’s all erased

when they do the smile on their friend’s face.

Discuss the couplet at the end we must:

Surrender? Gratitude? Or simply trust?

The sonnet is left open to interpret. 

It’s quite unique, a tale I haven’t heard yet.

5.

“Theodore Freak: All the Bright Places”

The bottle empty, thirteen pills gone down:

What path has led me here? I can’t be sure.

Perhaps the pain that cloaks me like a gown

Has settled in my chest without a cure.

My personalities, split serpents' tongues,

A heightened pain grown old yet ever new.

I cling to pain, my only sense of self;

Without it, fear I’d have no me to view.

Yet still a pulse insists that I hold on;

The Bell Jar’s pages echo what I feel,

But even in the hurt that pains me so,

Some part of me imagines I can heal.

When I escape “awake” and fall to sleep,

Let hope be proof the pain was worth my keep.

I must admit, I had to do some searching!

This piece is layered; references are merging.

So first, the title, “Theodore,” a “Freak,”

a character from all the places bright,

is seventeen years old and often might

behave erratically from week to week.

His dad bipolar, violent, and abusive,

poor Theodore denies help through and through.

Although he feels the truth is inconclusive,

a diagnosis’d not, to him, feel true.

Our sonnet, now, starts very stark indeed

for his own life’s what Theo now concedes.

His personalities are split like “serpents’

tongues,” and solely pain remains consistent.

The Bell Jar is a book of heavy topics.

Writes semi-autobiographically

the author, on their mental health, upon this.

Pressured by the world’s conformity.

It’s hard to fully write out the book’s themes,

I’d say to look into it, join the seams!

7.

“Chess”

My dad once asked to play a game of chess.

He told me that he just wanted to prove

That he would be the number one, the best;

But then I beat him in a quick four moves.

Then he suggests we play another game.

“Okay,” I said just so that I could leave.

The match result turned out to be the same.

“Another one!” he shouted out to me.

A few more games and one result was clear;

Game after game he got destroyed once more.

Skilled as an aeronautic engineer,

He ragequit and then walked right out the door.

This is a recollection; I was four.

Since then, we haven’t played chess anymore.

Turns out the speaker’s really good at chess.

At least, that’s what we’re led to understand.

But looking closer, the author might express

a subtle theme, much deeper in the sand.

One fact we know is Dad wants to play more.

“Another one!” He shouts, suggests again.

And given that this father’s child is four,

perhaps he let the young child win, and win?

With this the narrator’s not trustworthy,

for in “recollection” they lose memory.

A four year old would see the world unique;

their stories so inflated, but it’s peak.

8.

“Sunday Morning”

I watch the sun rise slowly in the sky

As morning birds chirp loudly in the trees

And notice noisy buzzing from the bees.

The sun, so bright I might just have to cry,

Although its warmth is piercing as an eye;

So here I stay in warmth, and feel the glees

Of sunlight shining through the early breeze.

I watch the morning dew begin to dry—

A bump and CRASH I hear right down the stairs,

And with regret I’m torn right from my peace.

By human hand I’m turned to the affairs

Of household hell, but I say “This must cease,”

I try to stop this rabid pack of bears,

Then someone screams “GET READY FOR CHURCH!”

A calm and peaceful Sunday morning, eh?

For nature’s beauty fills the sunny day.

Yet as the speaker leaves their peaceful room,

the bottom of their stairs leads straight to doom:

A “rabid pack of bears”: their family,

a “bump,” and “CRASH” and shouting all around.

And plus, the last line deviates, you see,

For someone screams WITHOUT RHYME OR METER FOR EMPHASIS!!

For now, that's what I've written for this era

of freshman sonnets. Best, L.J. Lamera