The Bookshelf (a sonnet)

[ThePinsir]

I haven't written in a long while. Here's a sonnet:

The Bookshelf

I found a hidden treasure tucked away,
a withered science book of age unknown
whose ink and pages rotted dry as bone
that years of dust had turned from white to gray.
Consumed therein, unmoved throughout the day,
delighting in the data all alone
until I realized light had fin'lly flown
and gladly put the book back on display.
Then buried 'neath the boxes of the past
I happened 'cross a novel left unread,
shiny and new, without a single scratch.
The characters are powerful and fast;
suspense and danger fill the mind with dread
but in the end the hero finds his match.



I'm not so sure about the meter in line 8, and I want to see if I'm getting my point across adequately (pro-tip: my girlfriend is a scientist). I want to make sure my symbolism isn't too cheesy, and really, that it's a decent sonnet. Any advice or criticism is appreciated.

- The Pinsir

[Truerenigma]

some of the phrasing is awkward. The apostrophes are distracting. The sentence secure of s2 us especially awkward. dread as a noun without adequate metaphor is very plain and abstract and comes off appearing lazy.

[Erthona]

Your rhyming suggest this is a Petrarchan sonnet, however the meter seems to not hold to IP: as a lot of the lines have words that are neutral, in terms of stress, but are placed where a stressed syllable should be.

"until I realzed light had fin'lly flown"

"realized" has three syllables with the first syllables being stressed, the next two being unstressed. One cannot make an iambic foot of that as the third syllable needs to be stressed, and it is not.

re-a-lized


There is also some problematic syntax, such as:

"whose ink and pages rotted dry as bone"

Plus the phrase "dry as a bone" is still a cliche despite your removal of the indirect article "a" which just makes it sound strange, not make it not a cliche.

"turned from white to gray" usually the pages yellow, not turn to gray.

...and if you are speaking symbolically, does this mean your girlfriend is old and gray?

I find the clarity obvious, but the meaning is less so.

The speaker spends most of the day with a science book, or his old and gray girlfriend, then finds a romance novel. I suppose that one could read this as, the speaker spends his day with his old and gray, scientist girlfriend until it gets dark, and she turns into a sex kitten. Of course if that is all the meaning, then I think the reader is short changed.
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On a positive note, I would say it is a valiant attempt at love poetry that avoids most of the oft' repeated phrases of that genre. So points for that.

Dale

[ThePinsir]

I've always said "real-ize" as two syllables...

Besides that, I appreciate the feedback. I'll get to work on it soon.

I wrote this when I was thinking of breaking up with my gf. It's supposed to be me leaving a scientist (cold, calculated, logical, boring) for someone more adventurous and young-at-heart and stuff.

Humbug - I need to get to work...

[danny_]

this has nice flow all the way, to me. i didn't trip up on any wording, either. and the subject is really cool. i haven't read other feedback but mainly what i see as a problem is this book is "rotted dry as bone" but you're still able to read it, and even move it without it falling apart. second thing is, just when we're getting intrigued by this old book we switch to a brand new book. if the poem focused on one mystifying book and you painted the atmosphere around the hours indulged in it, it would really shine as poem. for example, the glaring naked bulb hanging overhead in an attic, glinting specs of dust swimming around you as you blow off old pages and delicately thumb through them. whatever your atmosphere, make it strong and make it focused on one particularly intriguing moment of discovery.

thanks for sharing

I haven't written in a long while. Here's a sonnet:

The Bookshelf

I found a hidden treasure tucked away,
a withered science book of age unknown
whose ink and pages rotted dry as bone
that years of dust had turned from white to gray.
Consumed therein, unmoved throughout the day,
delighting in the data all alone
until I realized light had fin'lly flown
and gladly put the book back on display.
Then buried 'neath the boxes of the past
I happened 'cross a novel left unread,
shiny and new, without a single scratch.
The characters are powerful and fast;
suspense and danger fill the mind with dread
but in the end the hero finds his match.



I'm not so sure about the meter in line 8, and I want to see if I'm getting my point across adequately (pro-tip: my girlfriend is a scientist). I want to make sure my symbolism isn't too cheesy, and really, that it's a decent sonnet. Any advice or criticism is appreciated.

- The Pinsir