More Bad Sonnetry.

.....I'm not a big Facebook fan, but Jahnkin started a 'Bards of An Tir' group there in which a Sonnetry 'challenge' was thrown out by Master Garraed. Given a sonnet by Wordsworth, the challenge was to take two consecutive lines and make them the first and last lines of a Sonnet of your making.

.....Rhyme Scheme is ABBA ABBA CDDC CD. Iambic Pentameter as usual.

.....The rules were modified later, which went unnoticed by me. But I did enjoy both the entries by others and the writing of my own. If I had given myself more time to edit, I think I could have beat this more into submission. But I wanted to a.) get something submitted before the group moved onwards, and b.) get something submitted before my brain was beaten up by dealing with the Shipyard tomorrow.

.....I did have fun with it however, and hope that the challenge continues.

.....Here is the original Wordsworth:

Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison, into which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.

.....And here is my construction using the first two lines as the first and last lines of my sonnet:

Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room.
A hutch of six sides that provides a home.
A craddle holding bodies in rich loam,
From which they will emerge babes from the womb.
In the deep night from the dark of their tomb,
Their souls sail heavens ways in ships of foam.
Unfetter'd from this earthly weight they roam,
The mysteries of God they will illume.
The manna of divinity is joy.
It nourishes these sailors from deep wells,
As their ships navigate swift moving dells.
Springs effervescent as loves endless toy.
A world essential to the nun who's coy.
And hermits are contented with their cells.

.....I could improve the whole thing significantly had I seen the revised rules, which stated that one only needed to use one line from Wordsworth somewhere in your sonnet. I would definitely remove the last line of mine and replace it with something that completed it better.

.....But I'm recording it here in Live Journal so I can track it with my own sonnets. And add commentary to later creations.

.....Fun though. Should probably poke at Sir Richard and get him added to the Facebook group. He would present some good material to the group, I'm sure.

.....Aaron / Arontius.