Sonnet Mondal, IN

 

 

Fusion Sonnets   The Fusion Sonnet is a 21 line poem; it is comprised of a 14 line poem followed by a half sonnet of 7 lines acting as a coda or tail to add additional stability to the poem. The First Fourteen Lines: Same Rhythm and Rhyme in 1st, 5th, 9th & 10th Lines. Same Rhythm and Rhyme in 2nd, 3rd & 4th Lines. Same Rhythm and Rhyme in 6th ,7th & 8th lines. Rhetorical questions in 9th & 10th lines. Negative and pessimistic note in the first 10 lines. Free verse carrying Optimistic Tone in 11th, 12th,13 & 14th Lines. Volta gradually through 9th, 10th and 11th lines. Next Seven Lines:-The Half Sonnet acting as a coda to add a two dimensional note in the poem. Line 14 is a repetition of the 1st line. Same Rhythm and Rhyme in 16th and 17th lines. Same Rhythm and Rhyme in 18th and 19th lines. Volta in the 20th line. Line 21 is a repetition of the 5th line. Liberties:- In the length of lines and Rhyme based upon the closeness of pronunciations. Theme:- The 21 Lines Fusion Sonnet deals with heavy and deep themes.     Sonnet 5   The steel cages rusted, rotted yet strong and bold, Inside them lies a separate world of wild limbs limping— And turned inert with torture and malfunctioning, Their bloody flesh exposed a slapdash attitude with distressed feeling. Excitement in eyes, pleasure in heart, wonder in minds from sufferings untold. The fierce paws perhaps waiting for the head, One chance will kiss alive the daring dead! They are here cogently none of them are well fed. What makes them stay here for hours in heat and cold? What if God decides to move them to eternity from these nuts and bolts? The crowd is increasing with the number of days in earth’s calendar, Perchance some eyes would feel the ensuing death— And scream in protest, close the doors— To provide zeal to work and vigor to our pulse. The steel cages rusted, rotted yet strong and bold, The values disgraced and degraded in an ever-sinking trough— The well born meant to rule and the ill born destined to plough! The hunger forces them to spread their hands and bow their heads— Possibly one lord would see the angry eyes desiring to weave wreaths— And would start heaping red soil in the gulf of separation to change the world of— Excitement in eyes, pleasure in heart, wonder in minds from sufferings untold.     Sonnet 6   The signs of the past signaling them though the walls of the museum— Ancestral figures sleeping inside glasses; A nostalgic journey embedded inside multifaces; Moving in and out, the sorrowfully happy masses. The bridge which leads to our much coveted past’s stadium. The plaster over the stony bones undergoing depreciation, Unnoticed or willfully derelict till the boss comes for inspection. Most of the doors have been closed under the poster of renovation! When will the gates containing history open in open fluid medium? Is it also ordained to face the delaying court of law, in this millennium? Beside the central entrance, bamboos have been erected, The floor is dusty but to support the roof; The work has started, the contractors engaged, the workforce is on— Perhaps that could smell breathe into the sleeping statues. The signs of the past signaling them though the walls of the museum— Fated to be silent in reaction of the course of detrimental activities, Carried out by those still figures with cavities— They didn’t care to save their past-— Then we are far better in saving them in any caste. We will still care without anger and act to preserve, The bridge which leads to our much coveted past’s stadium.     Sonnet 11   Outside the lights are up, the grand fiesta of lights has stepped inside halls— But they have botched to skulk within me. My eyes are wide open to seize the brightness and feel the glee, Yet times and over it is murkiness and tedium, what it could see! The large bursts crashed against my ears, crackers burned in my eyeballs… Over two decades ago, it was the similar night, same as today Two kids at the doorsteps, behind them their father was about to join the play— I had evil commitment and my spiteful arm shot him to taste the clay… Is it my turn now to cart the heavy death’s shawl? Or should I wait for heavenly calls? The peccadillo I had adhered to blinks each moment, Let me spread my hands to be taken away by the handless, Let my only dwelling be temple! Let me wait before I sleep. Outside the lights are up, the grand fiesta of lights has stepped inside halls— I was a sincere murderer; I was bound by profession; The ferocious sounds have provided a base of my frustration; The reason may be my wobbly fingers and meager eyesight, That pulls me back, say me no and deter me from having my fight. Can those children without senses, with slaughtered father be my now…? The large bursts crashed against my ears, crackers burned in my eyeballs…     Sonnet 14   Falling heavily, the rains barred us from moving out— My thoughts boarded upon the boat of chimera and rowed to my land, Crossing the oceans to reach the shore where stands my dwelling of sand; My nostalgia played a mischief upon my beliefs with a magic wand. Waiting beside to see the waves pull down the structure setting laws of timeout. O Ocean Fluid you are perpetual flowing with the same pace, Then why are you so fervent to crack away my heart’s case? I endure the groaning pain which for the mankind absorb no place. Will it persist drizzling and create unanswerable doubts? Out should I move, prepare myself for a bout? By the time the showers will stop, may be all of a sudden, But the colorists will get some time to complete their work— To paint my home, and all along to paint my gloom; They must be working hard; the nature has lent his hand. Falling heavily, the rains barred us from moving out— Grueling me for my actions through its own measures, I was wrong to make someone cry for my own pleasure— To leave address and set up a new, But destiny desired failure for me amongst my crew. I hope Mother Nature indubitably will exonerate me or I will be— Waiting beside to see the waves pull down the structure setting laws of timeout.     Sonnet 17   Sometimes the sizzling sun, sometimes the blinding rain in the muddy plot, Thwart my lazy veins to depart for daily classes, But my poetic psyche begins its research ogling through the glasses— Not at youthful lasses but at the blissful Sun, White sky, and growing grasses. The Sun and Moon in their reverse course performing their duty to capture snapshots. So many four years have passed; I will also go by— The hazy metaphors of these days, some prominent yet among them, will surely make me cry; I will earn a lot but will these things available for me to buy? Where does the past passes and clot? Is our sorrowful mind only facet of elucidation that we have got? Lords must have fixed the sky to register and clouds as informer, Wherever we go, leaving our land, to foster peace in our life, Thinking or forgetting our times of yore to which we covet to come back some day, The chronicle will keep on working; we’ll posses the criterion to see them. Sometimes the sizzling sun, sometimes the blinding rain in the muddy plot, If I went to class I couldn’t have travelled to the billow, May be I have a different world like all others; yet I reside in a hollow— Memories and mirrors, reflect a melancholic song when viewed closely, We have our closed fingers yet outlets are many through which they escape simply; Nature like a King fixes work for its subjects and has his own cameras with which— The Sun and Moon in their reverse course performing their duty to capture snapshots.     About Sonnet Mondal, IN   Dr. Sonnet Mondal www.sonnetmondal.co.cc