h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Right - this is the 'Sonnet Challenge' thread. I'll start it up in a minute, but I'm just putting this down so I can post an URL. Rules: a sonnet is 14 lines in length, in iambic pentameter (ten syllables per line, alternate weak/strong stresses). Can be divided into octave and sestet sections (8 and 6 lines as the names would suggest), but it's not that necessary. For an example of a sonnet, see: http://www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/guide/F48949?thread=121349 Right: I'll see you soon... :-)

As I sit at my keyboard now and think
Of topics that would make a good sonnet,
I find my thoughts do constantly return
To that old constant: that of decent food.
At present, I am eating some hot rice
Nicely laced with vegetables and sauce;
A good plump mushroom rears its lovely head
As eagerly I do devour the dish -
But details I do not think you wish to know.
Suffice to say, the best inspiration
Lies in the humble foodstuff on your plate;
For even poets also have to eat.
Did Prufrock himself dare to eat a peach?
You see - proof of distinguished company.

Sorry for the lame first attempt - it's late...

Next topic: rabid rabbits

Ooh, this'll be tough!

Excellent first attempt by the way, I'll post mine in about - oh - a month or two

Come on... it only takes ten minutes or so...

Okay, you're on.

I'll be back in about an hour....

The rabbits on the lawn have run away
As I approached my door with key in hand.
There was one, though, who simply chose to stay.
I felt unease, 'twas hard to understand.
My heart beat faster--could this one be ill?
Could I be bitten, catch a dread disease?
The creature threatened not, but stayed quite still.
The only sound came from some languid bees.
The doorway rattled as I turned the key,
And soon I reached the safety of my home.
The other rabbits frolicked on the lea.
The one who stayed betrayed no trace of foam.
So, was the rabbit more than usually tame,
Or rabid, earning pity more than blame?

Next topic: picking blueberries

You guys are too good for me!

I'll lurk for a while

On a hot summer day I venture out
Walking down paths and through fields too
air full with heavy fragrance of summer
By the edge of a field I spy the bush
blueberries heavy adorn its branches
With basket in one hand I start to pick
Thanking nature for its free provision
But not wanting to deny the harvest
once enough are picked then I take no more
Walking back home and looking back behind
Blackbirds descend swiftly taking their share
later back at home the crop I asess
and finally I then join the blackbirds
I sit and eat homemade blueberry pie!


(Poor first attempt:
Next topic;
traveling to work (traveling to University, if you prefer)

2Legs:

Your poem is gorgeous.

My sonnet on traveling to work:

The milkweed shakes a bit as I brush by.
A goldfinch leaves the chicory shrub in haste.
I am, as usual, late. Wish I could fly!
No need to check my watch, no time to waste.
My car is speckled white with pigeon crap,
But cleaning it must wait till after five.
It's good I know my way without a map,
And better there's a mere two miles to drive.
The marsh with purple loosestrife gleams at right,
and on my left I see the shopping mall.
Then there's the square, with its odd traffic light.
I get to work, but not on time at all.
A meeting's soon to start, but can't begin
Till those-later than I!-come sailing in.

Next topic: picnics with friends

sitting in the park in bright summer light
Picnic with my friends we all feel alright
Starting with sandiwches washed down with wine
three bottles gone now we feel really fine
Then to the sausage rolls open the beer
the day begins to move darkness gets near
Someone dropps bottle opener to the ground
don't worry its found- champaign passes round
Back to the food have we brought far too much
Quiche goes quite quickly french cheese feel stuffed
chicken legs more sandwiches and cheese straws
one friend is quite drunk she removes her draws!
six bottles of wine and nine crates of beer
how to get home too drunk to drive I fear


Next:: an afternoon "messing about by the river".

A cloud of blue-grey smoke, a sooty grill;
The father, flipping burgers, dripping sweat;
A son, selecting flattish rocks at will,
suggests a skipping contest for a bet.
A cloth upon the picnic table's spread,
As mother from the picnic basket takes
Potato salad, pickles, rolls, and bread,
Some apples, cookies, napkins, forks, and cakes.
A plopping sound arrives from river's edge,
To indicate that *someone's* skipping stones.
"Oh, boys!" the mother hollers, "keep your pledge:
Do not fall in!" Above, a deerfly drones.
At last, the meat is cooked, or charred at least,
And all enjoy a pleasant summer feast,

Next topic:
The death of a huge old tree that had
become a dear friend

SONNET TO HONOR CHEESECAKE

Now, let the fauns and nymphs of field and lake
Come forth with ripened fruit and freshest cream.
We call them, in our kitchens here to make
A mighty cheescake, every Muse's dream.

And let the Musehome's portals open wide,
The better for the cheese* to enter in:
Six thousand gallons of it, says our guide,
One of vanilla, 2 cups cinnamon.

Two thousand pounds of sugar last we'll pour.
Mix all together, top with mounds of fruit.
This vast confection! Who could ask for more?
To each let Bacchus serve a slice to suit.

The Muses sit entranced before their feast.
Nought finer has been served to Muse or beast.


*i.e. cream cheese

I was getting around to it! Just procrastinating for a while
Ok...

A childhood swing, bourne up by youthful boughs,
A secret place, where happy hours of play
Gave respite from more troubled times of woe.
For 'neath thy leafy bower lay a world
Of innocence where carefree laughter ruled.
And as those childhood memories fade with time,
And Cupid's shaft did pierce youth's naive charms,
You sheltered me, while in my lovers arms.
But time has passed and progress marches on,
And where you stand, so powerful and strong,
Must be transformed, so people passing by,
May speed along, no matter that you die,
So that they may rush through each passing day
And doing so rush their own lives away.

Ok, how about something a bit more cheerful!
The first pint of on a hot sunny afternoon.

these are amazing you know guys I shall do Cabbys challenge now, so dont simulpost me someone

The first pint of on a hot sunny afternoon:

A long morning of thirst prevails lunchtime,
The heat of the lab scours at my throat.
Solvents abuse me, pain from barking choke.
Humble saliva salvation denied.
The long marathon of yesterdays
Is felt all the way through non-liquid lunch.

Sun beats down heartlessly, I feel so fraught.
W**k ends early and hair of the dog sought:
Today will be lovely once beer is bought.
As hands cup heaven, who cares if it's hot?

It sits in front of me, now I must wait.
Belief spreads slowly now through my chilled hands.
Wrist raised, fire of beer burns throat - sweet torture.
Much wanted bliss is now beauty within.

(I think I have been writting too many haiku to do iambic pentameters , will have to practise )

nt: Music

(I've been trying to post for days, but h2g2 keeps crashing at the crucial moment... okay, enough excuses. Here we go.)

'If music be the food of love, play on' -
So ran Shakespeare's sterling observation,
And yet it is a subject so diverse,
A sound for every single aural taste.
The dulcet tones of the pianoforte
Do echo through the halls of memory,
Or the haunting voice of aching strings
Can mend the tears within a broken heart.
Perhaps these have not the desired effect,
And a stronger music caters to one's taste:
Perhaps a little thrash from 'Napalm Death',
Or Shiny Happy chords from R.E.M.
All of us different, with fair desires
(Well, so long as it's not for Dance music)...

Next topic: Dangly earrings

Wonderful, I figured you wouldnt need the full quote

Sitting in soft light and with calm surrounds
Dangly earrings appear before my eyes
to whom do such offencive things belong
much alcohol and scant lead daring thought
Earings come closer yet do seem so far
Suddenly a touch or a memory?
as Dangly earrings contact my face
memory becomes relenting present
So I realise through frosty drunk haze
That too much alcohol and vulgar mind
can pertain to total lapse of reason
forgetting that before me close by is
beauty with no immagination for
wearing slightly less Dangly earrings


Net topisc: bbreakfast outside in the sun.

Breakfast outside in the sun


"The patio has such a lovely view,"
The mother said, "of pines and sand and sea.
The sun is out. The sky is cobalt blue.
Come out and have your breakfast here with me."

The others yawned. The father buttered toast.
The sister poured some coffee in a cup.
The mother turned her gaze upon the coast,
And wondered why the son was not yet up.

The father spooned some eggs into his plate,
And joined his wife outside. The sun was bright.
The daughter said, "My brother sleeps so late!"
"The coffee's cold," said mother. "Serves him right!"

There was no sound but seagulls in the sky,
As clouds and herons gently floated by


Next topic: Waiting for a train in a busy station

Waiting for a train in a busy station


A little child has red and blue balloons.
A man in khakis smokes a cigarette.
A gypsy girl displays her tattooed moons.
The train is due; there's no sign of it yet.

A college student drains her coffee cup,
Then goes for more; she whistles a refrain.
A man in gray with cell phone dials up
To tell his boss "There seems to be no train."

The child is getty edgy, stomps her feet.
The man in khaki smiles and tells a joke.
A rumbling sound is heard across the street.
Then, somewhere in the distance, puffs of smoke,

And down the track a train comes into view,
As passengers begin to form a queue.

Next topic: In a restaurant with tropical decor