So in an effort to teach myself sonnet writing, to write a story about a teen-ager who learns to write  sonnets, I read a series of modern sonnets.

Generally,  modern sonneteers have altered the rhyme pattern, if they use one at all,  and don’t generally use iambic pentameter (10 syllables to a line). But always follow the 14-line format, which defines a sonnet.

That is not an exact analysis, but a quick read.

What follows is a sample of my effort to write a modern sonnet.

I will say this exercise is fun, experimenting, learning structure and form and flipping language around. It’s why I write.

So:

In the time of the mad king the  simplest word is a scream,

A single letter a weapon, a dream a curse, a wish a torrent.

Hear them grind love through a blender

Till every sound is sharp, every cry cuts

And we stand in the wind tunnel street bleeding.

They want us silent,

To rip with fat fists the voices from our throats.

They want us naked,

Standing embarrassed, hands covering parts

Open in cold sunlight showing scars and wounds

To transform shame into fear.

But love is naked, isn’t it; that’s the trick.

Each of your  screams is a celebration.

Your every touch heals me.

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