I wrote a sonnet
s'for my multi-genre term paper on Oscar Wilde, a leader in the Aesthetic movement (art for art's sake and all that jazz...appreciation of beauty) I wanted a poem about it...I ended up with couplets on uneven rhythm. I challeneged myself to a sonnet. This is what I got:
Oh! Beauty, the fairest faith e'er professed,
God's best creation; a great work of art.
The first and the last of love e'er confessed,
A beauty so deep, we'd ne'er wish to part.
The wond'rous view and the beautiful sight,
As each moment still serves to inspire;
The unspoken beauty that fills the night,
Or the glittering coals of the fire.
Simply it's art, without a clear reason.
For there's no need for any great purpose,
Except, perhaps, to be logic's treason.
And of that vice, we have a great surplus.
It's in every man, and woman with tress,
But which is more lovely I'll ne'er confess.
Oh! Beauty, the fairest faith e'er professed,
God's best creation; a great work of art.
The first and the last of love e'er confessed,
A beauty so deep, we'd ne'er wish to part.
The wond'rous view and the beautiful sight,
As each moment still serves to inspire;
The unspoken beauty that fills the night,
Or the glittering coals of the fire.
Simply it's art, without a clear reason.
For there's no need for any great purpose,
Except, perhaps, to be logic's treason.
And of that vice, we have a great surplus.
It's in every man, and woman with tress,
But which is more lovely I'll ne'er confess.