are any of the poetic types around here interested...

LaurieAK · Post by **LaurieAK** » Sat Mar 12, 2005 11:55 pm

...interested in a sonnet "game"?

I saw this at another poetry site (i am fickle).
It is called a 'bout-rimes.' I first heard of this when reading about it this morning. It is a poem created by one person's making up a list of rhymed words and giving it to another person, who in turn writes the lines that end in those words, in that same order.

Here is the 'challenge' I found. It is in English or Shakespearean sonnet form.
If anyone is really interested and needs a little more 'sonnet' info, just ask.

The challenge is to create a sonnet using the end-rhymes in this order:

June
stress
moon
obsess
snake
moot
cake
beaut
Garbo
play
hobo
day
rhinestone
cologne

I played around with this for a couple of hours this morning and was able to come up with something. So it is do-able

regards,
Laurie

Critic2 · Post by **Critic2** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 1:31 am

we have a date for tomorrow!

LaurieAK · Post by **LaurieAK** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 2:32 am

Okey doke. Long as i don't have to bring imaginary friends for all your other personalities

L

esmé · Post by **esmé** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 2:51 am

Hello!
I'd like to join in, but I'm not sure how it works.

Could you post an example please LaurieAK ?

Teratogen · Post by **Teratogen** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 3:49 am

One evening in the month of June

One evening in the month of June
I drank wine to relieve some stress
And stared upon the summer moon,
Which now over I do obsess.
It’s a hassle to deal with this snake
Of anxiety, though, it is quite moot
That it might slither right around my cake
And wine—and the moon, she’s a beaut…
Reminds me of that classy Garbo,
The kind of character she would play;
She’ll leave you feelin’ like a hobo,
Searching for a sunny day
That sparkles bright just like a rhinestone
And imitated with its cheap cologne.

LaurieAK · Post by **LaurieAK** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 4:17 am

Hi T~

Good job!

You have a very distinct voice in your writings.

I got a kick out of the acrobatic tweaking of this line

Which now over I do obsess.

If you are game to trying this a bit differently, there is a 'traditional' (rules are meant to be broken or challenged) set of line syllables dictated in this type of sonnet called: iambic pentameter. 10 syllables for each of the 14 lines.
It is an added bit of angst, errr, i mean fun....

L

Thanks for playing. Great poem.

LaurieAK · Post by **LaurieAK** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 6:24 am

Here are a few rules set out for English/Shakespearean Sonnets:

14 lines. You have a 14 word list for the end of each of these lines.

These are broken up into 3 quatrains (4 lines each) and an ending couplet (2 lines).

If you write the word list vertically you can see the rhyme scheme:

June.......A
stress.....B
moon ....A
obsess....B

The rhymes in the final couplet are the same:
rhinestone/cologne

The final 2 lines are traditionally supposed to be of a dramatic affect.

And with an English Sonnet, the lines are all supposed to be in iambic pentameter, which is simply 10 syllables for each line. The lines can 'wrap around'" meaning the 10th syllable does not have to be the end of a sentence, but it has to be a sensible pause.

Hope this helps,
Laurie

Teratogen · Post by **Teratogen** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 8:52 am

yeah, i'm familiar with iambic pentameter and all that. mine just kind of teetered on iambic tetrameter save a few lines with an extra syllable or two. hahaha. what would REALLY be "an added bit of angst" would be for us to write this in an ITALIAN sonnet. hahahaha. good luck with that!

tom.d.stiller · Post by **tom.d.stiller** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 9:18 am

Teratogen wrote:yeah, i'm familiar with iambic pentameter and all that. mine just kind of teetered on iambic tetrameter save a few lines with an extra syllable or two. hahaha. what would REALLY be "an added bit of angst" would be for us to write this in an ITALIAN sonnet. hahahaha. good luck with that!

Unfortunately the line ends given wouldn't fit to an Italian sonnet...

Critic2 · Post by **Critic2** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 11:29 am

Laurie, thanks for the date but I must be honest. We are simply not compatible. I would rather die than rhyme moon and june. So, here is what we instead did on our date. It lasted 14 minutes and was challenging and fun. Isn't that good enough for you? I understand that you may never wish to see me again or that our future relationship may be only sexual. Kind regards, your unsuitorball, critic2.

All the time between May and July
I placed an emphasis
On nocturnal light
I couldn’t get it out of my mind
Nor out of hiss
And we started to debate
the Australian acclamation
of the Grand Hotel
We decided to stage there
Before the night came
A drugs feast leaving us Rhein stoned
In the river of Cologne

Critic2 · Post by **Critic2** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 11:32 am

esmé wrote:Hello!
I'd like to join in, but I'm not sure how it works.
Could you post an example please LaurieAK ?

what you do is you swear allegiance to Laurie, you woo her, write her poems, bake her fresh flowers, and bring her sweet smelling chocolate then she rejects you with a flourish of contempt.

Teratogen · Post by **Teratogen** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 12:55 pm

Teratogen · Post by **Teratogen** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 12:56 pm

tom... i know the end-rhyme words she has here wouldn't work with an italian sonnet. but someone could make some up! i wonder how many poets here know what an italian sonnet is...

excluding c2, cuz i know he knows everything.

Critic2 · Post by **Critic2** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 5:57 pm

Terry Wogan wrote:excluding c2, cuz i know he knows everything.

I agree with you, Terry Wogan. And if you don't mind I have included a link to one of the many fan sites devoted to your work

http://home6.inet.tele.dk/abekat/wogan.html

Paula · Post by **Paula** » Sun Mar 13, 2005 6:41 pm

Sorry this makes no sense at all

She said her name was June
She was in great di-stress
Her boyfriend he did moon
With body parts obsess

Especially with his trouser snake
Although the point was moot
He thought he was a beef cake
He thought his arse a beaut

He’d be alone like Garbo
And spent his time in play
And like the littlest hobo
A bone would make his day

He now wears shirts of rhinestone
And drowns in French cologne