9d.+Sonnets

= = .A sonnet is a poem made up of three quatrains (in iambic pentameter) followed by a concluding couplet. Iambic pentameter means that they have a pattern of 5 (penta) unstressed, stressed syllable groups (which make 10 syllables). A quatrain is four lines of poetry that has am A-B-A-B pattern of rhyming. A couplet at the end of a sonnet has an A-A rhyming pattern.

Shakespearean sonnets have 14 lines, like stated above. This form of poetry originated in Europe. They were very popular in England during the Elizabethan Era. William Shakespeare wrote over 154 sonnets!

This link on sonnets is a must see! Please read and interact with the entire page! Sonnet: Guided Practice



The sonnet form is old and full of dust And yet I want to learn to write one well. To learn new forms and grow is quite a must, But I will learn it quickly, I can tell.

And so I sit, today, with pen in hand, Composing three new quatrains with a rhyme. The rhythm flows like wind at my command. The A-B-A-B form consumes my time.

But I’m not done until there’s fourteen lines. One ending couplet, after three quatrains. I’ve tried to write this new form several times. The effort’s huge; I have to rack my brain.

But I persist, my fourteen lines now done. I wrote my poem; my sonnet work is won.

//by Denise Rodgers//

Copyright© Denise Rodgers All Rights Reserved Photo by Denise Rodgers

Dog's Death By John Updike

She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car. Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!"

We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction. The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver. As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin And her heart was learning to lie down forever. Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed

And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed. We found her twisted and limp but still alive. In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.

Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her, Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared. Back home, we found that in the night her frame, Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame

Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.

**Impatience** by Scott Ennis  Last month I found a tiny little seed And planted it inside a little pot. I gave it all the water it could need, And put it in a warm and sunny spot.

I waited all day long, but nothing grew; I got so bored just staring at the dirt. I had a million other things to do; Besides, just staring made my poor eyes hurt!

Today I see my little seed has grown, But sadly it’s an ugly little twig. I wanted flowers, but I should have known That all I’d get were leaves that weren’t too big.

My mother says the little plant will flower. So I’ll be kind and give it one more hour.