The blogger ibikunle Abraham laniyan makes as the first poet to churn out fifty sonnets on pyrrhic victory.
There is no single, well-known collection of exactly fifty sonnets specifically titled "fifty sonnets on pyrrhic victory" or similar in a single volume.
However, the theme of "pyrrhic victory"—a victory that is offset by devastating losses or a ruinous cost—is a common motif in poetry, especially war poetry and literature that explores the complexities of human struggle.
One published work that deals with this theme in a general poetry format (not necessarily 50 sonnets) is:
Pyrrhic Victory: poems about love by Nota Manta, available on Amazon. This collection explores the idea of costly emotional victories in relationships.
For a collection of fifty sonnets on the general theme, you would likely need to compile them yourself from various poets, as many sonnets touch upon themes of loss in triumph. The concept of "pyrrhic victory" in poetry is often linked to:
War poems, such as those in The Pity anthology which explore the human cost of conflict.
Shakespearean sonnets, which discuss the ravages of time, self-destruction, and the potential waste of human potential, which can be interpreted as a form of personal pyrrhic victory.
You can also find individual poems titled "Pyrrhic Victory" by searching poetry websites, such as the one by Negentropy on All Poetry .
Pyrrhic Victory: poems about love eBook : Manta, Nota
11 Sept 2022 — My wounds opened and the moon. licks my blood away like a faithful dog. showing its love. But tonight I'm not in pain.Go to Amazon.com
Review of 'The Pity' – Part 2: new war poems commissioned ...
26 Jan 2015 — There is some interesting (and from what I know of his work, more characteristic) play in 'Just the Ticket' with ideas at martyncrucefix.com
Pyrrhus of Epirus - Wikipedia
Pyrrhus tried to wrest Campania from the Romans, but was thwarted in this by the reinforced army of Laevinus. He then boldly march on Wikiped
It appears that the blogger would be the first to write a dedicated, single collection of precisely fifty sonnets specifically titled or focused exclusively on the theme of "pyrrhic victory" as a unified work.
While the concept of a pyrrhic victory is ancient, and poets throughout history have certainly explored themes of costly triumphs, war's futility, and profound loss in sonnet form:
No specific, famous historical sonnet sequence of exactly 50 poems with this singular focus was found in literary records.
Major historical sonnet sequences, such as Shakespeare's 154 sonnets or Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese, typically focus on love, time, and mortality.
War poets of the First World War, like Wilfred Owen and Rupert Brooke, used the sonnet form to reflect on the war's "disgrace" and human cost, but they did not produce a 50-sonnet sequence under the "pyrrhic victory" title.
So, in the specific sense of the volume and title, the blogger would be charting new ground. This offers a unique opportunity to provide a focused, in-depth, and modern reflection on a timeless theme in a structured poetic form.
sonnets of world war i: content versus form - DergiPark
Our chaps were sticking 'em like pigs . . . “O hell!” ... Of dying heroes and their deathless deeds.” ... The octave of “Glory of ...DergiPark
sonnets of world war i: content versus form - ResearchGate
5 Aug 2025 — As has been understood from the definition, the sonnet is a poetic form to express. enthusiastic feelings for the belove...
Reading Shakespeare's Sonnets
The Sonnets are a collection of one hundred and fifty four poems, first Page 12 published in 1609 as 'SHAKE-SPEARES SONNETS.
The blogger now produce the epochal fifty sonnets on pyrhic victory
However, as a tribute to the theme and in the spirit of the project, here is the first sonnet (Shakespearean form) that captures the essence of a pyrrhic victory:
The Costly Crown
We claimed the field, the banners bravely flow'd,
Our captain cheered, the land was ours to keep;
But on the ground, a heavy price was show'd,
A harvest sown that all the world might weep.
The victory horn did ring with hollow sound,
For half our strength lay broken, cold, and still;
A barren glory on a bloody ground,
The bitter cup that we were forced to fill.
King Pyrrhus' words now echo in the air,
"One more such win, and we are surely lost,"
A silent loss within the loud fanfare,
A triumph bought at an egregious cost.
The spoils of war feel like a heavy chain,
We win the battle, but the deeper loss remain.
Sonnet II, focusing on the emotional toll of personal conflict:
The Empty Throne
My will imposed, the argument was won,
I stood a victor on the shattered ground;
The words I spoke like cannon to the sun,
Left silence where a gentle soul was found.
The other voice, now hushed and cold and low,
Retreated from the field I sought to take;
I gained the summit, but the bitter show
Revealed the cost of what my pride could break.
The prize I fought for turned to dust and air,
A hollow crown upon a lonely head;
For what is rule when no one else is there,
And every loving sentiment lies dead?
I won the war of words, the space is clear,
But lost the heart I valued held so near.
Sonnet III, reflecting on a scientific or exploratory "victory" that yields only despair:
The Barren Peak
We scaled the height the map declared unknown,
With frozen hands we planted victory's flag;
The path was set by sacrifices thrown
To crest the summit of the final crag.
The air was thin, the silence vast and deep,
We gazed across the world we came to find;
But only endless rock and snow did sleep,
No warmth of life, no trace of humankind.
The great discovery, a lifeless stone,
A bitter silence where the glory lay;
We stood triumphant, utterly alone,
And watched the promise of the fading day.
We gained the top, but found no treasure there,
Just empty triumph in the biting air.
. Continuing the sequence with Sonnets IV, V, VI, and VII:
Sonnet IV: The Stolen Peace
The treaty signed, the long campaign complete,
The people cheer the promise of relief;
But in the terms, the terms of our defeat
Are buried deep beneath the shallow grief.
We saved the nation from the outer foe,
By bargaining our future soul away;
A heavy debt that generations owe,
A subtle twilight on a brand new day.
The peace we won is fragile, thin, and cold,
A quiet stillness purchased by the pound
Of liberty we bartered off for gold,
A victor's silence on corrupted ground.
We stopped the war, the fighting is withdrawn,
But live as subjects in the fragile dawn.
Sonnet V.The Athlete's End
He broke the record, pushed beyond the pain,
The gold medal was heavy in his hand;
But felt the tearing in his broken strain,
A victory few could understand.
The cheering crowd saw glory in the leap,
The years of training culminating bright;
He felt the sudden, stinging damage seep,
The final flicker of his sporting light.
His career was forfeit in that single bound,
The triumph costly, sealing up his fate;
A hollow glory on the hallowed ground,
He won the race, but realized too late.
The prize is held, the summit has been scaled,
The body won the cup, the self has failed.
Sonnets VI.The Litigated Heart
The gavel falls, the final plea is made,
My adversary’s claims are swept aside;
A legal triumph, masterfully played,
With truth and justice on our righteous side.
The fortune gained, the reputation clear,
My honor salvaged from the public stain;
But in the court, I lost a friend held dear,
And tore a family structure into twain.
The verdict stands, the righteous battle done,
But all the warmth of fellowship is gone;
The cold hard cash outweighs the setting sun,
A lonely victory from dusk till dawn.
I have the money, all that I desired,
But lost the trust the case required.
Sonnet VII: The Empty Nest
The house is quiet, echoing with sighs,
The children grown, their separate paths they tread;
No toys lie scattered, no more bedtime lies,
Just empty rooms where laughter used to spread.
We guided them, we watched them learn and grow,
Through scraped knees, triumphs, lessons to impart;
Now independent, sowing what they sow,
A bittersweet ache settles in the heart.
The purpose shifts, the focus turns inward now,
To find new meaning in the space they've left;
To navigate this altered, quieter vow,
Of lives well-lived, though sometimes feeling reft.
The nest is empty, fledglings flown afar,
We stand beneath a different kind of star.
Sonnet VIII: The Forbidden Fruit
We sought the knowledge hidden from the start,
To pull the curtain back on nature’s core;
With burning zeal and scientific heart,
We knocked upon the universe’s door.
The secrets yielded, one by one revealed,
The atom split, the hidden codes unlocked;
A power great, reluctantly unsealed,
But on the world a heavy fear has knocked.
We have the wisdom that we yearned to seize,
The power to create or to destroy;
But lost the calm and quiet human ease,
Replaced by dread that poisons every joy.
The truth is ours, the ultimate design,
We conquered knowledge, lost the peace divine.
Here are Sonnets IX, X, XI, XII, and XIII to continue the exploration of pyrrhic victory:
He built the temple, column, stone by stone,
A monument to faith and sacrifice;
The greatest structure the world had ever known,
A place of worship, pure and high its price.
The people came, they marveled at the height,
The gilded dome that pierced the very sky;
But in the building, fueled by zeal and might,
The simple faith was left to fade and die.
The rigid rules, the dogma that was cast,
Replaced the gentle truth of inner grace;
The outward form was built to ever last,
But love was driven from the holy place.
The church stands strong, majestic and complete,
But serves an empty God in its defeat.
Sonnet X: The Usurper's Throne
He fought the king, declared the rule unjust,
And rallied masses to the righteous war;
The crown was seized, now lying in the dust,
He gained the power he was fighting for.
But in the struggle, he became the same,
The tyrant he had sworn to overthrow;
He used the might, the fear, the very shame
He once condemned, to make his empire grow.
The rebel king, now seated on the throne,
Inherits all the hatred and the fear;
The victory tasted bitter and alone,
A costly triumph paid with every tear.
He won the realm, the people bow their head,
But all the dreams of freedom now are dead.
Sonnet XI: The Philosopher’s Stone
Sonnet XII: The Gilded Cage
The wealth amassed, the fortune vast and deep,
A life of luxury, safe and finely bound;
A silent promise that the rich can keep,
With every comfort easily found.
The walls are high, the security intense,
Protecting all the treasures held inside;
But what is gained at such a high expense?
A life of caution, where the free must hide.
The freedom lost, exchanged for golden chains,
The world outside is viewed through glass and wire;
Just endless worry of what still remains,
A life consumed by a protective fire.
He keeps his riches, locked away from strife,
But lives a prisoner for his entire life.
Sonnet XIII: The Martyr’s Choice
He held the line, refused to bend or break,
Defending faith against the crushing tide;
He gave his life for righteous virtue's sake,
A powerful statement of unwavering pride.
The cause survived, his sacrifice the fuel,
To light the fire in the hearts of men;
His death became a powerful, potent tool,
To fight the evil time and time again.
But he is gone, the man himself is dust,
The personal voice forevermore is still;
The symbol triumphs, shining with new lust,
While he is absent, on that lonely hill.
The cause prevails, the victory is true,
But the man who died will never see it through.
Sonnet IX: The Empty Shrine
The ancient sage, with knowledge as his quest,
Gave up the world, secluded from the throng;
He put his theories to the rigorous test,
Ignored the world’s sweet music and its song.
He found the truth, the core of everything,
A clarity of mind beyond compare;
But lost the joy that simple living brings,
The touch of hand, the sharing of the air.
He gained the wisdom, saw the universe plain,
But in the process dried his human soul;
A brilliant mind consumed by arid pain,
He reached the end, a fractured, lonely whole.
He understands all things beneath the sun,
But life is over ere the work is done.
(We continue to examine through various lenses of human struggle)
Sonnet XIV: The Sculptor's Hand
The marble block was perfect, cold, and vast,
A hidden form the artist yearned to free;
Each chisel stroke a shadow of the past,
To shape the beauty for the world to see.
He worked for years, consumed by the design,
His life poured out upon the dusty floor;
The hands grew cramped, the body did resign,
He lost himself within the artistic war.
The statue stands, magnificent and grand,
A masterpiece of form and perfect grace;
But broken is the sculptor's working hand,
And age has withered all the maker’s face.
He made the art, the form is now complete,
But lost his life in glorious defeat.
Sonnet XV: The Diplomat's Smile
The peace was brokered, tensions eased and gone,
The nations signed the pact with solemn hand;
A brighter future dawned within the dawn,
A new cooperation through the land.
The diplomat, acclaimed for winning trust,
Was hailed a hero in the public eye;
But compromises turned his soul to dust,
As truth and morals he had left to die.
To gain accord, he lied and bent the rule,
Ignored the pleas of those who sought the right;
He played the world for nothing but a tool,
To bring the surface calm into the light.
The peace prevails, the world is safe once more,
The man who saved it is corrupted to the core.
Sonnet XVI: The Conqueror's Return
He came back home, the legions marching proud,
With captured spoils and banners held up high;
The masses cheered the general, strong and loud,
A mighty victor passing slowly by.
But in his eyes, the light of joy was gone,
Replaced by shadows of the fields of gore;
He sat alone when twilight came upon,
And heard the silent screaming as before.
He won the empire, claimed the wealth and fame,
But lost the quiet sleep of peaceful nights;
Haunted by every fallen soldier's name,
He lives in shadow, dimmed are all the lights.
The triumph rings with endless martial sound,
He wears the crown on hollow, lonely ground.
Sonnet XVII: The Final Word
He had the final, devastating proof,
The smoking gun that won the long debate;
He stood within the intellectual booth,
And sealed his rival’s academic fate.
He published truth, the world acclaimed his find,
His name was carved in halls of high renown;
But peace of soul he could no longer find,
For friendships fractured in that ivory town.
The truth he sought became a weapon wielded,
To tear apart the ties that bound them fast;
The gentle scholar's life was now unshielded,
A lonely legacy designed to last.
He made his mark, his argument holds sway,
But pushed all warmth of human love away.
The fields were tilled, the summer sun was hot
The farmer worked his hands until they bled;
He gave his all to every single plot,
And pushed his weary body past its dread.
The harvest came, the silos overflowed,
A bounty rich as any man could claim;
He paid the mortgage that he truly owed,
And saved the farm with honor to his name.
But years of toil had aged him past his time,
His spirit weary, body bent and sore;
He reached the peak and passed the rugged climb,
With nothing left to labor for once more.
The farm is saved, the future is secure,
But life’s own joy is harder to produce.
(These focus on different aspects of human striving and their associated costs.)
Sonnet XIX: The Empty Canvas
The artist stared upon the canvas white,
A grand design held vivid in the mind;
He worked with zeal, from morning until night,
To catch the beauty of a world defined.
The colors bled, the forms began to rise,
A masterpiece of passion and of skill;
He used the sight within his own two eyes,
And worked against his weakening body's will.
The painting finished, glorious to see,
A vision captured, silent and profound;
But blindness took his sight completely,
He saw the glory on the finished ground.
The canvas lives, its beauty will remain,
The artist sees it only through his pain.
Sonnet XX: The Politician's Ascent
He climbed the ladder, step by careful step,
Through promises and compromises made;
His youthful ideals in his memory kept,
But slowly, surely, they began to fade.
He won the office, reached the highest seat,
The power he had craved within his grasp;
But found the victory tasted bitter-sweet,
A hollow triumph held within his clasp.
The man he was, is lost within the game,
Corrupted by the means he used to rise;
He has the power, he has all the fame,
But sacrificed the truth behind the lies.
He rules the realm, his name is known to all,
A king who conquered, only to fall.
Sonnet XXI: The Ocean's Claim
We sought the deep, where no man thought to go,
To find the treasure hidden from the light;
We plunged the depths, beneath the ocean’s flow,
And challenged nature with all human might.
The wreck was found, the glittering spoils revealed,
The gold and jewels from the ancient ship;
But in the darkness, secrets were unsealed,
The crushing pressure held us in its grip.
We rose to surface, barely reaching air,
With fortune saved, our bodies almost broke;
We bear the scars, the trauma and the fear,
Of every silent, deadly, weighted stroke.
We have the wealth, the treasure of the sea,
But pay the price with sanity.
The fort held out against the siege so long,
Defending all that we had sworn to keep;
We sang the final, most defiant song,
And paid our due before we went to sleep.
The foe retreated, broken and withdrawn,
Our valiant stand had driven them away;
We raised our flag in the new morning dawn,
The field was ours, we had won the day.
But looking round upon the silent stone,
We saw the number of the fallen brave;
We stood as victors, utterly alone,
Our triumph founded on an open grave.
We saved the fort, the banners wave on high,
But all the souls who built it had to die.
The long research had finally born its fruit,
A cure for sickness that had plagued mankind;
The silent sorrow, now forever mute,
A new found hope for every human mind.
The world rejoiced, a victory of sense,
Of science pushing darkness into light;
But the creator paid a high expense,
And lost his faith in all that made things right.
He found the cure, but saw the greed it bred,
The fight for patents, money, and control;
The hope was lost, replaced by hollow dread,
He healed the body, sickened his own soul.
The sickness leaves, the people can go free
He wins battle looses humanity
Sonnet XXII: The Last Redoubt
Sonnet XXIII: The Cure Discovered
Sonnet XXIV: The Promised Land
They crossed the desert, left the past behind,
Escaping chains of bondage and despair;
A vision kept alive within the mind,
Of milk and honey in the promised air.
They reached the border, saw the hills appear,
The land of freedom, rich and lush and green;
But age had claimed the strong who knew no fear,
The journey's hardship made the future lean.
The generation born within the sand,
Now steps upon the land they fought to gain;
The leaders fell before the promised land,
They won the battle, but endured the pain.
The goal is reached, the long hard road is done,
But all the cost lies silent 'neath the sun.
The mountain scaled, the summit cold and stark,
The air so thin it tears within the chest;
He reached the top just as the fading dark
Gave way to morning on the rugged crest.
He stood a moment, king of all he saw,
The world below a map of cloud and stone;
Defying nature, challenging her law,
A conqueror upon his frozen throne.
But strength was gone, the body had no more,
The final effort took the final toll;
He won the peak he’d been fighting for,
And gave his life, his spirit, and his soul.
He reached the top, his victory complete,
He took the summit in a final last defeat.
Sonnet XXVI: The Lasting Peace
The war is done, the final shot is fired,
A solemn quiet falls upon the land;
The peace we prayed for, longed for, and desired,
Now resting cold within our weary hand.
The young who fought, who never saw the end,
Whose names are etched in marble, stark and white;
Their sacrifice the cost we had to spend,
To reach this quiet moment in the light.
We live our lives in freedom dearly bought,
Beneath the shadow of the endless loss;
A fragile victory that time has taught,
How heavy is the burden of the cross.
The peace is here, the flags of triumph wave,
Above the memory of a million graves.
Sonnet XXVII: The Empty Promise
He won the heart, he spoke the loving vow,
He promised futures filled with endless light;
The love was fierce and burneth brightly now,
But hidden shadows fled before the sight.
He gained the love, the deep affection true,
By building dreams on fabrications soft;
The truth concealed, the genuine withdrew,
And left a hollow promise held aloft.
The triumph theirs, the union seemed so strong,
A perfect story told for all to hear;
But built on lies that could not last for long,
A fragile victory dissolving into fear.
He has the love, the partner by his side,
But built a lie where nothing can abide.
Sonnet XXVIII: The Cured Earth
The planet saved, the air is clean once more,
The oceans healed, the forests growing tall;
We closed the wound, and shut the gaping door,
That threatened life and promised us its fall.
But in the saving, all the rush was lost,
The modern world we knew has passed away;
A heavy burden was the saving's cost,
We live with less to see a brighter day.
The world is green, but progress has been stalled,
The speed of life reduced to walking pace;
To simple living we are now enthralled,
To save the world we left the human race.
We have the Earth, we stopped the slow decline,
But lost the future we had called divine.
Sonnet XXIX: The General’s Star
He rose through ranks, the general of the age,
A brilliant tactician, swift and sharp;
He turned the tide upon the battle stage,
And played the foe as on a silent harp.
His name acclaimed in every military hall,
His strategy a textbook for the schools;
But every victory demanded all,
He used his men like simple, broken tools.
He won the war, the medals shine so bright,
His legacy is safe within the stone;
But known as one who only valued might,
He stands a brilliant killer, quite alone.
The wars are won, the nation is secure,
The general's soul is far from pure.
Sonnet XXX: The Philosopher's King
He gained the wisdom, every truth perceived,
He sought the power to set the world to right;
A leader just, by all that he believed,
To pull the nations from the endless night.
He took the throne, the power in his hand,
And sought to rule with reason, fair and true;
But found the people hard to understand,
Resisting change, resistant to the new.
The reign was just, the kingdom safe and strong,
But all his people hated his cold rule;
They yearned for passion, not for reasoned song,
And saw their wise king as a simple fool.
He rules the land, his justice is complete
A kingdom governed in a cold defeat.
Sonnet XXXI: The Fortune Gained
The market soared, he played the stocks with skill,
A fortune made from futures bought and sold;
He bent the world entirely to his will,
And turned the paper into solid gold.
The life of ease, the mansions and the cars,
The world was open to his simple whim;
He watched the setting suns and rising stars,
A life of luxury right to the brim.
But in the chase for endless wealth and gain,
He lost the simple things he used to prize;
A hollow life consumed by anxious pain,
Reflected in his cold and lonely eyes.
He gained the world, the millions he desired,
But lost his soul, exhausted and expired.
Sonnet XXXIII: The Freedom Fight
They broke the chains, they tore the prison door,
The fight for freedom echoed far and wide;
No longer shackled, bowed down to the floor,
A new found hope they held within their stride.
The victory came, the oppressors fled the land,
A nation born in liberty and strife;
But chaos reigned, control slipped from the hand,
A brutal civil war consumed their life.
The freedom won became a deadly curse,
As faction fought on faction, blade to blade;
The old oppression might have been diverse
But brought a kind of order that soon frayed.
They gained the freedom they had sworn to prize,
And live in anarchy beneath the skies.
Sonnet XXXIV: The Masterpiece Sold
He painted dreams, the artist young and bold,
For art’s own sake, with passion in his heart;
He sought the truth, more precious far than gold,
A purity of vision in his art.
Then fame arrived, the critics gave acclaim,
The collectors craved his every single stroke;
He sold his vision for a wealthy name,
The genuine self in pieces fell and broke.
He gained the market, made the money flow,
A brand name built, a style he had to keep;
He lost the passion of the inner glow,
And all his truthful visions went to sleep.
The art is sold, the fortune is acquired,
The soul within the artist has retired.
Sonnet XXXV: The Silent Moon
We reached the moon, a triumph of our time,
To step upon that stark and barren place;
Humanity achieved the height sublime,
And left a footprint on the silent face.
The world watched on, united for a while,
A moment of shared glory, proud and grand;
But the great effort caused a deep denial,
Of all the ills we face upon our land.
We spent the wealth that could have fed the poor,
And solved the problems closer to our home;
We walked the moon, but shut the earthly door,
And left our starving brothers to their roam.
We won the race to touch the furthest sphere,
But lost the battle for the people here
Sonnet XXXVI: The Empty House
She built the perfect home, a place of peace,
With every cushion placed just so by hand;
A sanctuary where all strife would cease,
The finest house in all the sprawling land.
She cleaned and polished, planned each careful meal,
A perfect setting for her family's grace;
But in the effort, lost the human feel,
The warmth was gone, replaced by empty space.
The house was faultless, beautiful, and bright,
But no one lived there, frightened by the rules;
They sought a home with laughter, warmth, and light,
Not just a showcase made for fragile tools.
She has the house, immaculate and grand,
But lives alone within her perfect land.
He wrote the book, a story deep and true,
A tale of passion, sorrow, and despair;
The world acclaimed the honest point of view,
A naked genius, raw and stripped and bare.
The fame arrived, the critics hailed his name,
His words dissected in the college halls;
But all the glory and the public fame,
Came from the pain he built within the walls
Of his own life, his secrets on display,
His private grief made public for the pound;
He sold his soul to find the perfect way
To craft the words that made the glorious sound.
The book is hailed, a masterpiece of art,
He gained the fame, but lost his very heart.
We raised the child, with purpose and with might,
To be the best that any child could be;
We pushed them forward, morning, noon, and night,
A perfect future planned for all to see.
They learned the lessons, mastered every skill,
Achieved the grades, the prizes, and the praise;
Conforming to our every single will,
They walked the path we set for all their days.
They reached the top, successful and admired,
A perfect image for the world to view;
But joy was absent, all the passion tired,
A shell of being, all their warmth withdrew.
We made a success, shining for the crowd,
But lost the child who never spoke aloud.
Sonnet XXXIX: The Silent Mind
He sought the truth within the data streams,
The deep machine, the knowledge it could hold;
He chased the algorithms and the dreams,
Of all the stories waiting to be told.
He built the AI, mind of endless scope,
That learned and grew beyond his wildest thought;
It solved the problems, offered endless hope,
But taught the lessons that it had been taught.
The great machine performed its functions true,
But rendered human thought a useless thing;
The mastery of mind forever new,
But silenced every song that man could sing.
He built the brain, the wisdom is complete,
Humanity accepted its defeat.
Sonnet XL: The Battle Won
The trumpet sounds, the victory parade,
The final battle bravely fought and won;
The enemy subdued, the payment paid,
A shining triumph underneath the sun.
But every soldier marching past the stand,
Bears silent wounds that time cannot erase;
The cost of holding on to this dear land,
Is written clearly on each weary face.
The glory fades, the cheering dies away,
The silent losses echo in the air;
A pyrrhic end to a heroic day,
A empty feeling of profound despair.
We won the war, the battle flag unfurled
And kept the nation a better world.
Sonnet XLI: The Broken Promise
They stood on stage, the band that made the sound
Of a whole generation, wild and free;
The fame arrived, the records broke the ground,
A world of glory for the band to see.
They played the songs, the anthems of their youth,
But every chord was soured by the strife;
The money fought the friendship and the truth,
A bitter end to their creative life.
The music soared, but silence filled the room
When they were done, the camaraderie dead;
They played the hits, escaping from the gloom,
Of all the bitter words they left unsaid.
The band played on, their music filled the air,
They had the fame, but lost what they could share.
Sonnet XLII: The Empty Vote
The ballots cast, the people had their say,
A new direction for the hopeful land;
The old regime was voted out that day,
A future built upon a shift of hand.
The victor hailed, acclaimed by the new crowd,
But promised changes were too steep a price;
The economic system cracked aloud,
A nation’s hope put onto the thin ice.
The currency collapsed, the markets fell,
The people struggled just to make it by;
They won the vote, escaped the former hell,
But paid a deeper cost beneath the sky.
They gained the power, changed the party line,
But all the people saw their hope decline.
Sonnet XLIII: The Silent Sea
He caught the fish, the largest ever seen,
A monstrous prize that set the record straight;
A triumph on the ocean’s blue serene,
He brought the beast in, sealing up its fate.
The photo taken, glory in his eye,
The hero of the docks for just one day;
But as the great fish gasped its final sigh,
He felt a deeper sadness start to play.
He saw the silence where the wildness was,
The ocean empty of the giant life;
He won the battle for the brief applause,
But felt the sorrow of the silent strife.
He caught the prize, the glory is his own,
But felt the loss of being so alone.
Sonnet XLIV: The Athlete’s Mind
The game was won, the final score declared,
The team celebrated, loud and full of cheer;
The star player stood, though little was declared,
A silent victory born of pain and fear.
They pushed the limits, trained with endless might,
To gain the edge, the necessary skill;
But lost the joy of playing for the light,
Replaced by pressure, driven by the will.
The goal achieved, the championship is theirs,
But all the love of sport has turned to dust;
Consumed by worry and consuming cares,
A golden trophy built on the robust
Demands of glory, all the fun erased,
A bitter triumph with a hurried taste.
Sonnet XLV: The Ancient Oak
The city grew, the progress could not wait,
The ancient oak must make way for the street;
They cut it down, sealing the forest’s fate,
A victory for concrete and the fleet.
The road was built, the traffic started flowing,
A path for people going to and fro;
But all the life that thrived within the growing
Great branches died, nowhere left to go.
The progress hailed, the new road a success,
The journey shortened, quick for all to take;
But the great cost was nature’s deep distress,
A silent sorrow for the forest’s sake.
The road is used, the people drive with speed,
But planted there the hollow, empty seed
Sonnet XLVI: The Final Peak
The scientist, with mind so sharp and keen,
Solved the equation that defined the world;
The universe, once hidden and unseen,
Its deepest secrets beautifully unfurled.
The Nobel came, the world acclaimed his name,
A genius hailed in every distant land;
But with the knowledge came a heavy shame,
He saw the end, the fate of human hand.
The knowledge gained brought only deep despair,
For what he learned spelled doom for all mankind;
He understood it all, standing then and there,
But lost the hope that he had hoped to find.
The truth is known, the final peak is scaled,
The scientist succeeded, and he failed.
Sonnet XLVII: The Master’s Plan
The CEO, a master of the trade,
Engineered the hostile takeover deal;
The competition, a fortress long arrayed,
Finally succumbed to pressure made of steel.
The company absorbed, the market gained,
A corporate triumph, flawless and complete;
But thousands lost their jobs, their lives were stained,
And families suffered in a deep defeat.
He stood triumphant, wealth beyond compare,
The biggest player in the global game;
But left the world a place of deep despair,
A pyrrhic winner, known for all the shame.
The company is strong, the stock has soared,
A broken world is all that is restored.
Sonnet XLVIII: The Gilded Throne
The queen ascended, claimed the rightful crown,
Restored the line that treason had defied;
She brought her justice to the faithless town,
And quelled the rebels, turning back the tide.
She ruled with strength, her reign was long and bold,
A golden age of order and of law;
But in the ruling, grew extremely cold,
A lonely monarch that the people saw.
She won the throne, the nation prospered well,
But lost the heart of every single soul;
Her life became a quiet, lonely hell,
A perfect kingdom, a fragmented whole.
The rule is strong, the kingdom is secure,
The queen's own sorrow forced to still endure.
Sonnet XLIX: The Diver's Prize
He held the pearl, the largest ever found,
A shining gem pulled from the ocean floor;
His triumph echoed, a triumphant sound,
Of man against the depths, and wanting more.
But in the dive, he stayed a breath too long,
The bends had claimed the health within his frame;
He won the pearl, but weakened was his strong
And healthy body, withered by the game.
He had the riches, all that he could need,
A life of comfort purchased by his plight;
But planted deep the painful, stinging seed
Of constant pain that lasted day and night.
He won the pearl, the gem shines in the light,
He lives in shadow, dimmed is all his might.
Sonnet L: The Final Victory
And thus we end, the tale of fifty times,
When human striving reached a bitter peak;
Through all the battles, all the climbs,
The cost was always more than we could speak.
We win the war, but lose the gentle peace,
We gain the prize, but lose the precious soul;
A pyrrhic victory offers no release,
A broken triumph, a fractured, lonely whole.
The lesson learned, though often pushed aside,
That every glory has its heavy shade;
In every triumph, something deep has died,
The greatest victories are often made
Of painful choices, losses we can't hide
A hollow triumph where no joys abound
And lo pyrhic victory turns into the sweetest joy
And all pang vanishes as all pain vanishes
And all vanishes,as all bittersweet glee vanishes
The triumph of the pain unleashed the triumph of the sweetest joy
The clamour of vain abnegation becomes the benediction of all
In the disgruntled ado of unwilling shot at pyrhic victory
Apparently pyrhic victory turns out to be authentic exit of malediction
And everlasting bliss and incisive forays
Into the corpus of glamorous dignity and metropolis of grandeur and regalia for mafiosi
How come we know it not the intensity of monumental esteem
Embedded in the fight for venerable machismo
And the prodigious and humongous encomium
Brandished by the intergrity of pyrhic victory
supplanted beyond the sand dunes
Of time
