The Sonnet on a Box

What we were doing here and in the next post was this: In this sonnet each student prepared a box with six objects inside it. The objects were to be significant to the person preparing the box They taped it shut and put their name on the box. They exchanged boxes and this sonnet was written musing on the contents of the box. They were not allowed to open the box until the next sonnet assignment.

Here are the results of that exercise.

The magical box full of surprises

Her great aunt twice removed huge gold earrings

Her many colorful Girl Scout badges

Mouthwatering grandmother’s dumplings

The marbles she won in junior high school

From those snotty popular eighth graders

Memory of first time on a barstool

Her long list of goals to get her bachelors

Her very first multipurpose cellphone

Favorite pink and yellow ball point pen

To her very first signed subsidized loan

Favorite pen gives her a perfect ten

There is ringing and dinging in the box

There may even be her small keychain fox

... Patricia Gonzalez

Curiosity of the apparent

Jingling, thinking of what it hides?

We should focus not on what’s inside

Although would aid if it were transparent

Jewelry box. Contents be relevant?

Most commonly known, rules secrets don’t abide

Interesting to see, if the box has lied

Nice to see, dull in the omniscient

All knowing, knowing much for disposal

Think easy-jewelry box, jewels presumed

Contents must not be judged on by cover

Grey, soft, assuming perhaps proposal

Again, misleading, not by size but by supposal.

never should be assumed by a lover.

...Gabrielle Arroyo

The Box

Hard and plastic, but clear and blue outside

Disguised inside by paper of white

But with a hint of pink trying to hide

The parts are warring, an eternal fight

What lies within? A piece of hopeful love?

The glint of metal, a token of home.

The jingle of treasure rises above

The muffled contents, held captive by foam.

Six impossible objects of our fates

Configured apparently at random

Opening our souls to all, like gates

Deeper and farther than we could fathom.

A mystery wanting to be solved

Could only be this sort, so involved.

...Laura O’Hagan

Temptation

The sound of the box is mystifying

What is in the box? I want to now know

I shake it, but it’s not gratifying

And I try not to let desperation show

I hear the click-clack and I try to guess

I think it’s a locket, what else is there?

I stare at the box and with fingers press

But the suspense is much, I start to swear

The box is almost weightless, what the heck?

Temptation comes forth, I have to withstand

But I must open it, I need to check

I can’t, I need to stop my curious hand

I have to live with it quite a few days

How will I ever get over this craze?

...

Liz Licea

Her friction causing objects, all as one

Together wrapped in a shade of pure white

Light as a feather, heavy as a ton

For they remain embraced and closely tight

The oval-like shell is imprinted with

Such a design that mimics the small case

When shaken it creates a pleasant pitch

That manages to make a songful wave

Yet a disguise revolves around the box

Your eyes can only see the top surface

It’s as if all of it is tied with locks

Which make you want to peek and open it

But the unknown remains a mystery

And the small box retains an endless gleam

...Christina Zuniga

What can it be?

I sit and think for hours at a time,

Wondering of this box, what can it be?

Perhaps a treasure from a past crime,

Unfortunately, I can’t glance nor see.

The conclusion of opening it came

Post shaking this box, digging my minds holes

But I didn’t and made my mind be tame

Perhaps she gave me all her hopes and goals?

Although who am I for her to give this?

This is a trap for me to go insane

Or she boxed her feelings from her first kiss?

But giving that away must cause her pain

For all I know now that to me it seems

In this small box can be all her scarce dreams

...Naila Khan

What may lie within this box?

Six objects that tell all her history

Shiny and golden like golden locks

The objects so tiny remains a mystery

The sound it makes, a jingling of pearls

So fragile and beautiful

This box it contains her past her goals

Her dreams the jewels of her soul

These items of intimacy

Describe this girl in every manner

Her style, her morals, her infancy

Everything in her life that matters

This golden box may be tiny

But what is in it creates a beautiful identity

...Angelica Flores

Liz’s sailboat keys reside in this box,

And her pilot license is in here as well.

To show her faith she remembered a cross,

In jewels and silver, her favorite bell.

The sailboat resides in Monterey Bay,

Her favorite spot for free-diving in June.

Next to the otters, the perfect getaway

She hates how September always comes soon.

The bell, a gift from mom and dad to show

Just how much they’d miss her in school. The last

Item, the cross, reminding her that, no,

She’d stay on track and try to finish fast.

These are all of Liz’s treasures galore,

Now tell me, don’t you want to know her more?

...Alyssa Capili

Box Sonnet:

This cube world spins lively on its axis,

Spurred on by a single lonely toy car

As it scans the mementos it passes,

Moving nonstop but hardly getting far.

Treading with a sense of warily care,

Tripping over a tiny button mine

Perhaps a coin or a forgotten spare

Lost to this dark landscape without a sign.

Yet there is no cause for a lucky charm.

Cushioned at times by a cotton thicket,

This false eternal night does not mean harm

Much less the threat of a speeding ticket.

But it’s as those slips of paper predicts,

This toy car needs some speed to get its kicks.

...Jason Tse

In this chest there holds a secret

Not even the Da Vinci code was a mystery

Can it be pandora and what holds it

Or the mind of Michael Jackson and his misery

Can it be the solution to world hunger

Or the reason for world peace

It might be the answer to turn younger

Or the new president who will bring war to a cease

Only way to find out is to open it

To touch it’s sacredness and to feel it’s power

The mystery is how much can it fit

Memories of past years and past hours

Only way to find out is to open it

To love, appreciate and cherish it

...Julia Le

Third exercise-The Rondeau

This exercise was based on the Rondeau form. We're using formal forms for awhile just for the discipline. Upcoming are a couple of sonnets and an exercise developed by Sacramento poet Patrick Grizzell. Here are the Rondeaus. Some slip out of form.

On the Comfy Couch

On the comfy couch sat the golden cat,

If looking for him, the couch would be where he was at,

The cat would never move, afraid his spot would be taken by the deceiving dog,

He wouldn’t mind sharing, but he was to wise to not know the dog was such a hog,

So day after day, that is where he sat.

Their owner would come now and then to move him with a pat,

But the cat would rather be beaten by a bat,

The dog’s eyes were yearning to be glued with a cog,

On the comfy couch.

But the cat thought “he has a mat!”

“Then why does he look at me like a hungry rat!?”

But that single spot had caused such a fog,

Between the animals, someone could have written a blog,

But never did the cat move, instead would lay flat,

On the comfy couch.

By: Naila Khan

Words

I live my life in written word

As well as it spoken or heard

But no one would even believe

Nor hope, dream, ponder, or conceive

That they fly from me like a bird,

So quick and rarely discovered.

These fright less beings have earned

The right to know that just as Eve,

I live my life.

Her life and mine have mirrored

One another, our lust answered

By the tree. No longer naïve,

I sing and write words in a weave.

I live my life.

...Laura O’Hagan

Draped in velvet with a lace trim

In a shop once so bright, now dim,

A marionette, strings in tow

Yearns for a place in the window,

In the spotlight, pretty and prim.

Not one crack, nor a missing limb.

Just a soul waiting for a hymn

With cheeks painted a rosy glow

Draped in velvet.

In a store once teaming, now grim,

Window shoppers pass on a whim,

Seeking a laugh, seeking a show.

Peeking through a clouded shadow

To that no longer at the brim.

Draped in velvet.

...Jason Tse

The ant went marching up the hill,

He finds himself by Jack and Jill.

It puzzled him why they were there

confused themselves, they sat and stared,

at their silver bucket unfilled.

When the girl saw the ant “Kill kill!”

was all she yelled, the ant stood still.

“Calm down, the neighbors you will scare”

The ant just grinned.

With his foot mid-air, the boy yield.

“Silly kids go back to the fields,

for water flows down,” He snared.

An argument, they did not dare

they rushed, and tripped, and down they fell

The ant just grinned.

...Julia Le

I cry for them in Taiji, Japan

Where dolphin's blood feeds the fisherman

Spears piercing flesh, blood draining out

Filling all consumer heads with doubt

Twenty-three thousand dead again

It’s senseless, really, why they can

Keep murdering without a ban.

Not born with voice boxes to shout,

I cry for them.

Why, through no action, do we fan

This disgusting, flawed, and cruel plan

To harm and continue to flout

All they damage and still without

A single law being broken

I cry for them.

...Alyssa Capilli

Sitting alone now beside you

Your heart is gone, it’s split in two

You love someone else, admit it

You feel it in your stomach’s pit.

Denying it won’t help, it’s true.

Every day you go to the zoo

And you sit there thinking it through

The hurt in your heart won’t remit

You don’t love me.

I look into your eyes, so blue,

Your quiet gaze, I get the clue

You want to leave and you admit

That I for you am so unfit

And someone else has changed your view

You don’t love me

...Liz Licea

Our Secret Spot, love has been born

A place we have laughed, we have mourned

Daily, nightly, the time there flies

Unaware of the change in skies

A ripe love that was at first, torn

By a previous love, now scorned

Have we moved on? The past forlorn?

A love founded on that of lies

Our Secret Spot.

Despite all, you make me reborn

With you, I’d try what hasn’t been worn

So unlike myself, one that tries

To form love founded on loose ties

Love stronger through all than unborn

Our Secret Spot.

...Gabrielle Arroyo

His life clung on to the seconds

His short four years of life ended

On the corner laid a mother

His tiny body she smothered

How did he fall under the wheel?

The car moved slow yet no one squealed

The only thing left was a tear

No matter if you live or die

Death follows you

He slowly moved his tiny arm

His body was freed from the dark

Painful smiles ran across his face

He defied the clutches of fate

Although the black coffin is far

Death follows you

...Christina Zuniga

Observing the world around me

Deciding who I want to be

People have already chosen

To be filled with love or poison

But who should I decide to be

Am I happy do I envy?

Or should I stay a mystery

The world a blur an explosion

Who can I be?

A dreamer? lover? Anything!

a human being full of greed?

Of everything I have chosen

My body full of emotion

I have decided to be me

Who can I be

...Angelica Flores

The Second Exercise- A Poem Based on An Exercise by the late Peter Wild

Peter Wild was an American Poet who taught at UC San Diego for many years. I had the good fortune of publishing two of Peter's early poetry chapbooks. This poem is based on an exercise he used in his writing class. The first and the last lines are constrained. I further constrained the line length and number of lines. Here is what happened.

For centuries lovers have looked at the stars

The stars that look over the world when asleep

The world made up of dreamers, risk takers, mothers fathers and children with running feet

These mischievous kids who cause trouble wherever they go

Full of energy and weapons like firecrackers that blow up

What if we blow up the dog? They say

And BOOM! One leg is blown away

And the mother cries

And the father hurls

But they love their children

Children who are part of the world

Made up of dreamer, risk takers, mothers, fathers, and children with running feet

The ones that look at the stars

What do we look for when we stare at the stars, at the night, dark but full of star light

We want love and protection from those that surround us

Beep beep who’s that man in the beer truck outside our house?

Someone call the dreamers, the risk takers, the mother, the father, to save the children with running feet

Run and hide

Someone help these mischievous kids

And the three-legged dog chased the beer truck out of town

...Angelica Flores

For centuries lovers have looked to the stars

Their indefinite love binding their hearts

This cocoon embraces their bodies

Reality is merely utopianism

They sit in a restaurant booth

The window next to the woman, tainted by soiled handprints and aging dust

slowly peels off with the falling water droplets.

The other side is dark, inhumane, odd

and the three-legged dog chased the beer truck out of town

...Christina Zuniga

Destiny

For centuries lovers have looked to the stars

Hoping to decipher the ways of the fates.

One such couplet of lovers, staring,

Found much bewilderment when pondering the cosmos.

What they saw was not a story

Of love, nor of hate nor of jealousy,

But peculiarly it was a story of a woeful dog!

This dog, just a simple creature of the earth,

Was a cripple for it had only three legs.

For hours and hours, the lovers watched.

They gleamed with much mirth and wonder,

The life of this animal, as unfortunate and curious as it was.

They saw not only its current bestial life,

But the one beyond. The one it was destined to live.

The life it would eventually lead

Would only be possible if it ceased its chase.

For the lovers had seen that it would meet a tragic end

If it persisted in its ways.

With great sadness in their eyes, they saw that end

And the three-legged dog chased the beer truck out of town…

...Laura O’Hagan

Garry and the Bar

For centuries lovers have looked to the stars,

Usually this happens when they come back from the bars.

At the bars is where they shed their tears and moan,

And ask their love issue questions in a serious tone.

Then one day, to the bar, came an odd man,

With him he brought a dented pan.

He drove a beer truck and announced his named to be Garry,

He was too ghastly to be called a bad apple, more like a black cherry.

He began to order drinks, one after another,

When asked he said the bill would be paid by his brother.

With time the owner got worried and started to fear,

He hoped Garry was dreaming of free beer.

The owner finally demanded some money,

That’s when Garry thought he’d be a little funny.

Garry grabbed his dented pan and aimed at the owner,

He thought the owner was frightened because he ran to the corner.

But the owner whistled and out came a three-legged dog,

Even with only three legs he was bigger than a hog.

Scared Garry jumped into his truck with a frown,

And the three-legged dog chased the beer truck out of town.

...Naila Khan

For centuries lovers have looked to the stars

Two lovers of equal thought, two lovers at the park

They sit in single silence, no dead bodies in between

No violence, no hate, just love

They stare at each other thinking,

Their gazes blank with understanding

Their bodies close and the grass prickly

Between their warm intertwined hands

The wind emanating from the trees, the only sound

It shakes the passive leaves around

Then the crickets sing along in harmony

And a lonely owl hoots in the darkness

Faded into the city landscape background

These beautiful nature sounds constricted in the park

Scream out to New York “be quiet!

For these two lovers in Central Park”

But inevitable it is when a pub is nearby

And the beer truck roars along to the ally close by

A dog steps out into the car light

And the lovers’ paradise moment is lost

for the dog starts barking as the truck backs up

and the noise slowly elevates

when the three-legged dog chases the beer truck out of town.

...Liz Licea

For centuries lovers have looked to the stars

to learn how to love, care, act, think, and

process all that they had been blessed to

experience while lying in the comfort of

each other’s souls. The silence was

captivating, with so much to teach each

other about what life would unfold for them

in later years. Ah, to be young and in love;

to still yearn to be blindly carried away by

Prince Charming and his gallant steed to a

world you never fathomed could exist when

raised in this complacent society of ours.

To want to settle down in a long forgotten Eden

and befriend fantastical creatures in

hidden passageways where Latin and Algonquin

are the only acceptable languages to be spoken

in everyday conversation. To want to

save Humpty Dumpty six times a day

from his ever so eminent fall, to forget the concept

of self completely in a labyrinth of fantasies

where salamanders serenade Adolf Hitler

every morning to quiet his sociopathic,

Anti-Semitic yearnings for the downfall of mankind

And three legged dogs chase beer trucks out of town.

...Alyssa Capili

For centuries lovers have looked to the stars.

Peering through the long planetary distance

To find that binary pair that hold their names

Or discover a solitary light already at wits end

And put that flamboyant shooting star out of its misery.

For decades the unrequited have looked to the skies.

Admiring the potential reflected in the high clouds,

Searching for comical forms that tease the mind

To play along in the garden of one’s storm

And hide the impending clear weather forecast.

For years the hypnotized have looked to the seas.

Amazed by advancing waves crashing ashore

As the surfs and tides undulates tediously close

Catching only the mist afloat in a suspension

And watch it gravitate away to the lucky moon.

For hours heartbroken I looked to the curb.

Past the empty glass bottom is my home tonight but

Gripping my last mug that has been long out of refills

I beg for charity in the form of an extension to my tab

And the three-legged dog chased the beer truck out of town.

...Jason Tse

For centuries lovers have looked to the stars

Anticipating shooting stars, cuddled in each others arms

Connecting the endless specks. Trying to form pictures of

Cows, birds, whales, the dipper, an ice cream cone.

Not realizing that while they’re looking at the unknowing

The well-known is all around them living a life of its own.

At a distance a cat was running from a three-legged stray dog

A truck driver abruptly presses on the brakes because he didn’t see the red light

For he was trying to finish a half eaten burger from Ahn’s Burgers.

The girl had forgotten to turn off the stove at home,

Her mother came home witnessing the house almost burnt to the ground

She’s furiously calling the innocent adolescence,

But as we suspected, she had turned off her phone.

She’s gonna hear it when she gets home.

The boy’s father is waiting at home to tell him that his mother

Is in the hospital, anticipating death at any moment.

The driver finished his burger at the light even after it turned green,

The cat escaped through the fence,

And the three-legged dog chased the beer truck out of town.

...Julia Le

For centuries lovers have looked to the stars.

Looking for inspiration? More so comfort.

Wide- eyed, Innocent, Naive, Hopeful, Cliche

Alert, young, wild, and potential gazes

Eyes serving as peepholes, peeking into the heart shaped box.

An empty box filled with images of hopes, dreams

Spontaneous plans and reckless forms of security

of what will come, what could be, what should

Yet, the time has passed and could be hasn’t

The aspirations end in weak and futile attempts

The stars that once held such magic

have proven themselves what they are

an array of large irreversible clumps of plasma

floating aimlessly, luminously, manipulatively

Young lovers that once were now stare

Looking for comfort? More so inspiration.

calm, experienced, secure, and above all, appreciative.

Inevitable reality sinks. Eyes now look at what is real

Reality that is eye-level, attainable

And the three-legged dog chased the beer truck out of town

...Gabrielle Arroyo