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    200 Sonnets
    200 Sonnets
    200 Sonnets
    Ebook208 pages1 hour

    200 Sonnets

    By P.J. Lowry

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    About this ebook

    Carrying on from the previous book "100 Sonnets", this new book presents a new collection of new sonnets written over the last few years. This collection has a labor of love, and I hope you enjoy reading them!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherP.J. Lowry
    Release dateOct 27, 2018
    ISBN9780463390801
    200 Sonnets
    Author

    P.J. Lowry

    Born in Hamilton, Ontario on October 28th 1975, P.J. Lowry has been creating fiction, non-fiction and poetry for over twenty years. P.J. graduated from Memorial University of Newfoundland in 2002 with a Bachelor Of Arts, majoring with the department of English language and literature.After traveling abroad P.J. returned home, settled down, and started composing novels and collections of poetry for formal publication. He currently resides in his hometown and is working on his next novel.Gift Shop: If you like PJ's work, wear it too!https://shop.spreadshirt.com/pjlowryshop/

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      Book preview

      200 Sonnets - P.J. Lowry

      Published at Smashwords

      200 Sonnets

      A new collection of poetry

      written by P.J. Lowry

      Copyright 2018, P.J. Lowry

      License Note:

      Thank you for purchasing this e-book. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

      If you enjoyed this e-book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy through smashwords.com where they can also discover other works by this author.

      Thank you for your support.

      Dearest readers,

      I know what you’re thinking; can’t this guy write free verse to spice things up a bit for us? I could, and I have (see book titled Blood & Ink), but I refuse to apologize for living this style of poetry. Writing the sonnet is challenging for me and that task keeps me coming back to the notepad. Whenever I finish one of them, especially when they sound relatively coherent, I’m beside myself and brimming with pride. You rarely get that kind of rush from writing something free verse. Never.

      Now don’t get me wrong; I’ve got nothing against free verse. I had a bit of a free verse phase during my university years, and I spent a whole summer doing just that. While some poems were pretty cool, most of them were less than stellar. They are being kept away from the public for good reason (you’re welcome), and while at the time I thought it was pretty awesome, I often wonder if I was stoned during that period or just a naïve idiot.

      Seriously, I’ve been rather strict about the poetry I’ve written over the last two decades but I keep coming back to the lovely challenge which is the sonnet. I love putting together something organized and I really don’t care what people think about them. Okay, maybe I do a little bit but that’s it! I sincerely hope you like the new hundred sonnets that I’ve composed for you, dearest reader. I started writing sonnet 101 in December of 2015, and it took me almost three years to reach number 200. A lot has happened in the last few years, but none of it has changed my love to writing this kind of poetry.

      Now someone took the time to write/blast me online about meter, and that’s a good point to bring up. I understand that some (okay most) sonnets have a meter in them, meaning each line has a certain number of syllables in each line. To be perfectly honest, I never really cared for it myself. I preferred to concentrate on content and the rhymes rather than meter. I tried to do a sonnet in perfect meter once, but in order to successfully write that sonnet like that I had to sacrifice the other two elements (content, rhyme) which I felt were far more important. So, after a few grueling and stressful attempts to be perfect, I pretty much tossed meter aside and let it go. So, does that my sonnets disingenuous? I personally don’t think so, and I think there are a lot of poets who change the rules to suit them, and I am no different. I never claimed to be perfect, but I hope out there my dear readers will enjoy them all none the less. Is that too much to ask for? I don’t think so either.

      In order to write a sonnet, very much like most poetry, all you have to do is write something from the bottom of your heart and share it with the rest of the class, ie the human race. I was never one to always play by the rules, and while I’m following most of them… meter just wasn’t worth the effort,loss of hair and sleep. Like my favorite singer always said: two out of three ain’t bad.

      Once again, I hope you enjoy reading these sonnets half as much as I did to compose them all for you.

      My best,

      P. J.

      Silent is the night as I stare upon the blank page

      marvelling what radiance may come by my pen

      worried my mind might be trapped within a cage

      as silent poets are no longer the wiser men.

      Blocked from this world, sheltered from all life

      I languish for daylight while pining for new hope

      the struggles nag my brain like a hateful wife

      stressed to bring out something of immense scope.

      It should not feel this hard, never this strained

      the words should want to flow out like a river

      rather than feeling this confined, this restrained

      as I fear not a word shall ever run off this quiver.

      Art like life is difficult to bring forth into the light

      one must keep fighting and continue to write.

      I arise from a deep and very comforting sleep

      wake up to realize the day was dark and sad

      times are so harsh, I just wanted to openly weep

      over what she did, how things became so bad.

      Many people endeavour me not place blame

      on myself for what I didn’t perform or control

      I was led astray, there’s not need to feel shame

      a betrayal I did not contribute nor had any role.

      Where was I as this revolting game was going on?

      Tending to my young, doing what men are supposed

      to do when trying to be responsible, it didn’t dawn

      on me that our love was fading, our minds closed.

      So much sorrow to my soul she has brought

      our love will carry on, the relationship will not.

      I open my eyes and awaken to greet the new day

      hoping the morning will bring forth good memories

      soon my delight and excitement start to give way

      as I begin to remember the past and her atrocities.

      Pain came my way by her will and deliberate malice

      her words cutting through my heart like a dull knife

      the actions that ended my love, so cold and callous

      never again would I endure such pain in all my life.

      She was my love, the one whom I wished to share

      all our times, in sickness and health, better or worse

      I thought life without her was like being without air

      but our life together was as finite as this verse.

      There are days I look back and wonder what might be

      but the thought of her now makes me want to flee.

      Graceful is her spirit as well as her compassion

      for her fellow men and women, those left without

      her choices made not what is deemed good fashion

      but to support those who are helpless and in doubt.

      Their life is lost, as their ability to function in society

      her heart knows no limit, which is what I admire most

      people are inspired by her, through her clear propriety

      she cared for those who are lost, but never cared to boast.

      The things she does, they are gifts from a gentle soul

      as she loves everyone as if they were all her own child

      raising them to become independent, reach for a goal

      teaching them to remain calm, keep their tempers mild.

      Saints like her are a rare breed, much like the animals

      as they learn none of us are different, always to be equals.

      Each day I look her way, my heart skips a beat

      as my eyes are rapt by her beauty and her grace

      I feel spoiled as my ocular nerves are given a treat

      urges brew in my soul as I yearn to share her space.

      Her flowing red hear shines about as bright as the love

      that fills my heart like the blood that beats life into me

      she’s the kind of person whose life we all want a part of

      as I long to create a few new additions to her family tree.

      Yet the love I hold will never come to the light of day

      she loves another and her life has never been better

      I’m doomed to life my live as the skies are always grey

      none will know my feelings but those who read this letter.

      While I long to be with her, to caress my ailing brow

      I’d never wish her pain, just to

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