Sonnet on a photograph
The glass I hold doth capture thee in frame,
A smile once mine, but now a relic old;
A pixelated image of a flame
That flickered bright ere it was turned to cold.
Thy light behind this pane remains as fast
As when my fingers first did press the shot,
Yet all the time that since our love hath passed
Leaves memory a cold and hollow spot.
The colors fade, the contrast softens low,
And what I see is not the truth but art;
A portrait of a love I used to know,
Before thy likeness tore my world apart.
So though thy face in crystal I may see,
It cannot conjure what is lost of thee.
Sonnet on technology
The silent screen, a window to the mind,
Where endless streams of thought and vision flow;
A world within a pane for all mankind,
Yet leaves us standing separate in the glow.
We tap and swipe and share our lives with all,
But in this network, are we truly near?
Or but a name within a digital wall,
To whom we whisper words that no one hears.
The feed refreshes, bringing news untold,
Of moments fleeting, captured and displayed;
But touch is absent, and the hand grows cold,
The silent presence of a life conveyed.
And thus we lose the grace of living there,
Obsessed with living
Sonnet 1
The silent screen, a window to the mind,
Where endless streams of thought and vision flow,
A world within a pane for all mankind,
Yet leaves us separate, watching through the glow.
We tap and swipe and share our lives with all,
But in this network, are we truly near?
Or but a name within a digital wall,
To whom we whisper words that no one hears?
The feed refreshes, bringing news untold,
Of moments fleeting, captured and displayed,
But touch is absent, and the hand grows cold,
The silent presence of a life conveyed.
And thus we lose the grace of living there,
Obsessed with living life beyond the square.
Sonnet 2
What bitter fruit doth from this discord grow,
That sets two hearts on opposite design?
When once our steps did walk in rhythmic flow,
Now every stride doth push the other's line.
The garden of our love, so green and vast,
Now bears the thorn of anger and of doubt;
A bitter wind, a shadow overcast,
Hath choked the tender blossoms from their sprout.
Yet still I see within thy troubled eyes,
The ghost of former light, a memory's gleam,
And hear a whisper through the weary sighs,
That pulls me back to our forgotten dream.
So let us cast this sullen strife away,
And greet the sun, and face a better day.
Sonnet 3
This waking world, a stage of glass and wire,
Doth show me glimpses of a life not mine;
A phantom feast to kindle false desire,
A perfect image, crafted and divine.
The painted smile, the pose for all to see,
The fleeting moment captured for the crowd,
Doth steal the truth of what our lives can be,
And speaks its silent virtue far too loud.
I long for flaws, for wrinkles, and for rust,
For tangled hair and stories left untold,
For hands that sweat and clothes that gather dust,
A truer tale than all that glitters gold.
For in this realm of perfect, polished art,
I find a void where once I found a heart.
Sonnet 4
The hurried pace of days doth steal our breath,
And fill our moments with a frantic haste;
We race toward some vague and promised death,
And leave the simple pleasures laid to waste.
We trade the sky for a fluorescent glare,
The gentle earth for asphalt hard and gray;
We fill our lungs with fumes and poisoned air,
And rush toward the closing of the day.
But still, sometimes, a moment stops the time,
A flash of bluebird wing, a sunbeam's kiss,
A melody that holds a perfect rhyme,
A simple gift from all we daily miss.
To see this beauty is the truest prize,
Though all the world should pass before our eyes.
Sonnet 5
The book, now closed, sits silent on the shelf,
Its stories sleeping in a paper shroud;
A universe contained within itself,
A chorus hushed, a song no longer loud.
But in my mind, the characters still walk,
The plots unfold, the ancient questions stir;
I hear the echo of their distant talk,
And feel the sorrow that their fates incur.
The hero's quest, the lover's sweet despair,
The rise of kingdoms, and their tragic fall,
The human spirit, weighed with worldly care,
Doth find its truth in these and in them all.
For in these pages, though their words may cease,
The human heart doth find a kind of peace.
Resources for generating more sonnets
You can use AI tools to generate more original sonnets by providing new prompts. However, as with the examples
Sonnet 6
The fleeting glance caught on a city street,
A moment’s spark that burns and then is gone;
No time for words, no chance for us to meet,
Lost in the tide of strangers and of dawn.
You are a face I will not see again,
A perfect story told in just a beat,
And in that briefest part of life’s long chain,
My hungry soul was rendered bittersweet.
What ghost of feeling lingers in my mind,
Of what our different paths may once have been?
A book unwritten, of a hopeful kind,
A world unseen, a picture left unclean.
So I will walk and wonder at the sight,
Of love that flickers only in the light.
Sonnet 7
The promised land, a dream of digital,
A gilded palace built on borrowed cloud,
Where data spins and answers all the call,
And all our thoughts and hopes are spoken loud.
But in this space, where everything is free,
We pay a price in silence and in doubt,
For all our comfort comes from what we see,
And nothing’s real till it has been poured out.
The endless feed of others’ perfect days,
Doth mock the quiet struggle of the soul,
And leaves us blind within its blinding haze,
Forgetting we are parts of one great whole.
So let us close the window on the show,
And find the deeper truth we used to know.
Sonnet 8
The memory, a river running slow,
Doth carve its channel deeper in the heart;
Reflecting all the things we used to know,
Before the current tore our love apart.
I see thy face in every whispered sound,
And feel thy touch in every passing breeze,
As though the world, with all its turning ground,
Hath trapped our time within its ancient trees.
But time, a thief that steals all things away,
Doth blur the edges, soften every line,
And turns the vibrant color of our day,
To pale and fragile, wistful, anodyne.
So let the river run, and memory fade,
And find new strength where once the hurt was made.
Sonnet 9
This modern grief, a sadness without cause,
A heavy weight of living, dull and deep;
For all the world doth take a sudden pause,
And every waking moment bids me sleep.
The sun shines bright, the birds begin to sing,
The world keeps spinning on its endless course,
But all the joy that other people bring,
Hath lost its power and its sacred force.
I search for answers in a book or screen,
A key to open what is shut inside;
But all the words I’ve read and all I’ve seen,
Cannot release the tears I hold and hide.
So let me sit, and in this sorrow stay,
Until the healing comes, and clears the way.
Sonnet 10
The constant hum of city life's machine,
A metal heart that beats throughout the night,
Doth hold us all, both hidden and in scene,
And paints the world with ever-glowing light.
We build our towers, reaching for the sky,
We rush and hurry on the crowded street,
And rarely pause to wonder at the why,
Or taste the silent triumph and defeat.
But in the hush of an unwanted rain,
When shadows lengthen and the noises cease,
A fragile quiet comes to ease the pain,
And brings a moment of uncertain peace.
So let us stand, and let the rain fall down,
And wash away
Sonnet 11
The pixelated world, a vibrant stage,
Doth show us all the roles we play and hold;
We turn the screens and flip a digital page,
While ancient stories still remain untold.
The silent scrolls of all the written past,
Now lost within the internet’s deep maze,
Are traded for a future moving fast,
And swallowed up by screens in fleeting days.
The book, a solace, silent and serene,
A world of ink and paper, touch and feel,
Is now replaced by bright and sterile sheen,
And memories we cannot make as real.
So though we live in all this speed and light,
We miss the darkness and the sacred night.
Sonnet 12
The silver bird that flies upon the wind,
With metal wings and engines burning bright,
Doth leave the world of earth and sky behind,
And soar beyond the day and through the night.
We sit and watch the clouds beneath our feet,
And see the world in patterned green and brown,
And think upon the time that is so fleet,
As we descend upon another town.
The tiny lights that twinkle far below,
Are not so different from the stars above;
And in this brief and artificial show,
I see the world with all its fragile love.
For though we travel faster than the air,
We leave a part of our own soul back there.
Sonnet 13
The silent room, the headphones on my ears,
The song begins, a rhythm and a beat,
And all the noise and worries and the fears,
Are lost within the music, strong and sweet.
A lonely thought, a story, or a rhyme,
Doth find its voice and sing inside the sound,
And for a moment, I can stop the time,
And find my peace upon this shifting ground.
The digital chorus fills the empty space,
And tells a story I have never known,
And brings a smile upon my tired face,
And lets me feel a seed of comfort sown.
So let the music play its gentle part,
And mend the silent broken in my heart.
Sonnet 14
The perfect garden, manicured and clean,
A photograph for all the world to see,
Doth hide the truth of what lies in between,
The broken branches and the troubled tree.
We show the blossoms, vibrant and so fair,
And hide the weeds that grow beneath the ground,
And paint a picture of a world so rare,
That what is real can never be unbound.
The life we live, a curated display,
Doth hide the struggles, and the constant fight;
And in this gilded and unreal array,
We lose the simple truth of what is right.
For in the real, with all its thorns and dust,
Is where we find our true and honest trust.
Sonnet 15
The endless scroll, the feed that never ends,
A constant river, flowing from the hand,
Doth offer gifts from strangers and from friends,
And shows us all the kingdoms of the land.
We see the faces, and we hear the sound,
And feel a connection, strong and yet so thin,
As though we stand on unfamiliar ground,
And look upon a world we are not in.
The stories pass, a moment in the light,
And disappear into the dark unknown,
And leave behind a loneliness at night,
A feeling of a person left all
Sonnet 16
The mirror's face, a screen of endless gleam,
Doth show a version perfect and refined,
Reflecting back a digitalized dream,
A version of the self for all mankind.
We smooth the edges, filter out the flaw,
And place upon the stage a shining mask,
And hide the truth beneath a pixel law,
Performing for the audience's task.
But in the quiet of the fading light,
When all the screens are black and turned away,
The real and tired self returns to sight,
And sheds the borrowed glory of the day.
So let us seek the honest, untouched face,
And find our truth beyond this polished space.
Sonnet 17
What sudden joy doth fill the empty air,
From simple memes, a fleeting, witty sight,
A shared connection, scattered everywhere,
A tiny candle burning in the night.
This common thread of laughter, soft and small,
Doth bind the weary strangers and the few,
And builds a fragile and unseen wall,
Against the constant sorrows we pass through.
And though it's brief, and like a passing whim,
It proves that humor can survive the change,
And offers solace on a narrow limb,
And shows the world is not so hard and strange.
So let us smile, and s
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