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Sonnet # 9

Luis A. Estable 1958 (Oriente, Cuba)

Sonnet
And so your lips provoking me to sweat.
Your eyes that make the ones of others, dirt.
And when you're wet, nothing like it I've met.
You make the rose with human feelings hurt.
But this's not all; I must now tell your chest
That is, my dear, worth of a angel's face.
Who, total man, on it not wanting rest?
Your rear be touched with more than earthy grace.
I'm sorry bird! Her voice makes your song small.
The painter cries, your lines he cannot paint.
Who made you, woman, with beauty so tall?
Oh, God, who else could this much fair obtain?
        Who's there to say you're not divine? Now, tell me!
        You much amaze my human eyes, fair lady!
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Submitted by luisestable1 on March 19, 2023

Modified on March 29, 2023

42 sec read
29

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABABCDCDEFEGHH
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 650
Words 134
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 14
Full analysis for Sonnet # 9 »

Luis A. Estable

Luis A. Estable, poet for more than twenty years. Single, no children; originally from Cuba. Writes poems in several styles: sonnets, songs, haikus, children's verses, free style verse and more. Has published three books of poetry: " Eighty-Three Sonnets, Book One," Religious, Thirty Sonnets," "My Mind Simply Saying. All of them available on Amazon books. Has degrees from SFCC and EWU. Lives in Spokane, WA. Thinks that poetry is the most compact and beautiful expression known to man, and that a poem never reaches perfection; the work goes one and this is a good advice to keep, especially for young poets. more…

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    "Sonnet # 9" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 9 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/154370/sonnet-#-9>.

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