Why I like to write sonnets

I like to write sonnets because it is like solving a puzzle. Making all the pieces fit, the rhyme, the meter, the idea structure, along with the hopefully pretty language and convincing passion, are like doing an aesthetic Rubik's Cube. Of course, you must have something to say before you begin. And it must be something poetic, something that could not be said just as easily in a letter home, or a Facebook post.

What's the definition of a sonnet? A sonnet has 14 lines of iambic pentameter, which is to say, a rhythm like either "Today, today, today, today, today," or "today, today, today, today, tomorrow." There are several traditional rhyme schemes: the English one is typically abab cdcde efef gg. The Italian version is typically abba abba cde cde. There are many possible variations on these basic models.

An important feature of the sonnet is what is called the "volta" or turn. It typically takes place at the transition between the first 8 lines (called the "octave") and the final six (the "sestet".) It has a function in terms of meaning; it is sometimes said that the first part of the sonnet poses a problem, and the second part offers a solution. That's probably an oversimplification -- I have seen many different kinds of voltas, but what they have in common is they smack you right in your cognition. In Italian sonnets, the rhyme scheme changes at the volta, to underscore the shift. In English sonnets, there is a concluding rhymed couplet, and there is usually a "punch line" in those final two lines, another variety of "volta."

Here is one of my sonnets, from my ebook of love poems, To My Carnal Darling. It is a traditional Italian (Petrarchan) sonnet:

The Revelation

I'll see the panties first; your belly, sleek And taut, invites me to the satin lace, A region where my lips would gladly chase Your fingers down that boundary, and seek The softness of your thighs. But next, a peek Upon another most enthralling place: Your other naughty fingers that embrace Your nipple, plump and pink, and gently tweak It 'til it cries for more. Your panties now Are glistening, and calling me to kiss, To lick, to taste the viscous blessings they bestow. And finally, the revelation, this: The lips that hint of plum, but tasting so Much sweeter, like our hearts conjoined in bliss.