Hey, this is Mr. Sato and I’m going to help you write a sonnet.
The sonnet is an old poetic form. Its roots go back to 13th century,
but it is still written by modern poets.
Some poets these days mess with the rules—some don’t even rhyme—
but if you’re writing this sonnet for a class assignment, your teacher
probably wants you sticking with the traditional rules.
So this video is designed to help you do that.
Writing a sonnet is kind of like juggling, because you have to
do three things simultaneously.
You can’t do one, then the other, and then the other. You have to do all three
at the same time as you write each line.
Those three things—the 3 Requirements for it to be a sonnet— are as follows.
1) It has to follow a specific rhyming pattern, called a rhyme scheme.
2) A sonnet is written in a specific kind of rhythm called iambic pentameter.
3) Depending on who you’re writing for, the sonnet may have rules regarding
content and structure.
I don’t know how to juggle, but I always figured that although it would be
hard to learn, once I got the hang of juggling,
it would seem a lot easier, even natural.
Jugglers never look like they're straining with effort;
they look focused but loose.
Sonnet writing is kind of like that.
Let’s look at the first one: the rhyme scheme.
The most common kind of sonnet written by students is the Shakespearean sonnet.
It is sometimes called an Elizabethan sonnet or an English sonnet.
This kind of poem rhymes like this:
A B A B C D C D E F E F G G.
What this alphabet soup means is that all the “A” lines rhyme with each other,
like believe and eve right here, and all the "B" lines rhyme
—like round and sound—and so on.
See: Words, birds. Soft, aloft.
So in a 1942 poem called ,“Never Again Would Birds’ Song Be The Same,”
Robert Frost used these rhymes at the end of his lines:
BELIEVE, ROUND EVE, SOUND (right? A B A B.)
WORDS, SOFT, BIRDS, ALOFT
SONG, CROSSED, LONG, LOST
SAME, CAME (right? G G.)
Don’t use these rhymes. Just make up rhymes that fit what you’re trying to say.
Another point about rhymes: although not strictly prohibited, it’s generally
considered bad form to re-use rhymes in the same poem
or to rhyme a word with itself, like rhyming
“you” with “you” again.
The other kind of sonnet often written is the Petrarchan sonnet, sometimes
called an Italian sonnet.
Its first 8 lines rhyme A B B A A B B A. But the last 6 lines can be any of a number
of variations: C D E D E C,
C D C D C D,
C D E C D E, and others.
The Petrarchan sonnet requires more rhymes than the Shakespearean sonnet,
which was probably easier for the Italians who invented it
because lots of Italian words have similar word endings.
(Think: Roberto and concerto.)
In Shakespearean sonnets, you only have to come up with pairs,
just two rhymes at a time.
But in the Petrarchan sonnet, you have to come up with rhyming groups of 4 at the top,
and then usually it’s like 3 on the bottom. So if you’re looking for a
greater challenge, you could go with the Petrarchan.
You know, it's a little harder. But everybody else?
I recommend you stick with the Shakespearean sonnet.
Coming up with rhymes is actually the easy part. There are lots of
online rhyming dictionaries out there to help you find rhymes.
But don’t go there yet. Finish watching this video first.
Second, let’s look at something called iambic pentameter.
An “iamb” is a unit of rhythm consisting of one unstressed syllable followed by
a stressed syllable -- ba-BUM --
like “The Mets.” Put five of those in a single line and voila!
You have iambic pentameter. Every line should have this kind of rhythm:
ba-BUM, ba-BUM, ba-BUM, ba-BUM, ba-BUM.
It’s kind of like a heartbeat.
For example: “My cat is eating casserole and cake.”
These marks show the stressed and unstressed syllables
This U-shaped thingy here is the UNstressed syllable,
and this slash is the stressed syllable. It’s the heavier, stronger
syllable. Now whether you know it or not, spoken English has a rhythm
built right into the language and you have to train your ear to hear it.
There’s no other way. You can’t Google it.
You can’t just count ‘em like syllables. You have to train your ear to hear
the rhythm in the language. “My CAT is EATing CAsseROLE and CAKE.”
This is really the only way to say this line unless
you want to sound like an alien from another planet.
So if you were to reverse the stressed and unstressed syllables, for example,
it sounds totally bizarre:
“MY cat IS eaTING caSSERole AND cake.”
That sounds wrong, right? So if there’s a wrong way to say it, then there must be
a right way to say it. That’s because there really is a standard rhythm
to natural English speech.
There may be a few instances where it’s a matter of opinion, but mostly, if you
learn to listen to the words in a line of poetry, paying attention to every syllable,
you’ll learn to hear the rhythm in the words. It really is there.
So—the rhythm you need is that alternating rhythm. You can vary from it
a little, but you must always return to this rhythm:
“But SOFT, what LIGHT through YONder WINdow BREAKS?”
Can you hear it? “But SOFT, what LIGHT through YONder WINdow BREAKS?”
Or this line from Keats: “The POetRY of EARTH is NEver DEAD.”
Writing the iambic pentameter is probably the biggest challenge in sonnet writing,
because you have to keep fiddling with words
until they fit this heartbeat rhythm. You can’t just say,
“I LOVE you so MUCH, I FEEL like my HEART is GOing to exPLODE.”
Well, that line isn’t iambic and it definitely isn’t pentameter. You have to carefully
reword it so the rhythm works, and still says more or less what you want to say.
Like this: "my LOVE is LIKE a STICK of DYnaMITE.”
That’s why writing a sonnet that doesn’t just make sense but actually says
says something well is such an amazing accomplishment.
When you’ve done it, you should be proud of yourself.
Last, the content and structure.
Not all teachers will require this, but the sonnet was originally a poem
designed to praise someone or something.
The sonnet wasn’t originally for telling a story or just vaguely
expressing your feelings. It was for praise or adoration. George Herbert praised God.
John Keats famously praised his girlfriend, Fanny Brawne.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning praised her husband.
Now, you don’t have to praise the guy or girl that you love, though
that would make a nice present, wouldn’t it?
It's a lot more thoughtful than an email greeting card.
So you could praise your boyfriend or girlfriend.
Or you could praise the ocean.
Cheese pizza. Your favorite basketball player. The game of soccer.
Your favorite video game.
A favorite place, your favorite band, or season, or time of day.
I read a sonnet about Facebook once. But a traditional sonnet should praise.
And that praise will fill up the first 8 lines of your sonnet.
Now, see this? Remember this? The rhyme scheme?
Each of these four-line stanzas is called a quatrain.
You praise the subject of your poem for the first 8 lines—the first two quatrains.
So sing the praises of your subject for 8 lines.
But the third quatrain should have a shift in the tone or perspective.
So, if you’re writing about the many fine qualities
of your dog for the first two quatrains, in the third quatrain, you might say,
"But dog, you make me grab your steaming poop /
my hand encased in plastic shopping bags."
(That’s 2 lines of perfect iambic pentameter there.)
Or maybe you could pull back your camera and take a broader perspective.
“I guess my dog is just another dog.” Or maybe,
“But sadly, dogs don’t live forever, no.” Something like that.
In any case, there's usually a shift at
the beginning of the third quatrain. This is called the “turn.” T-U-R-N.
Some people call it “the volta.” Without the turn,
an uninterrupted stream of praise gets pretty boring beyond 8 lines.
You know? So the third quatrain is an opportunity to say something
a little more original or surprising about your subject. Complicate it.
Look at your subject from a new angle here. That’s the turn.
Just a note here: If you’re writing a Petrarchan sonnet, the turn comes
at the same spot, at the beginning of line 9.
So, in the final two lines of your Shakespearean sonnet, you come to
your conclusion. These two rhyming lines, called the couplet,
are where you bring your sonnet home. Give your final judgment on your
subject, good, bad, or “it’s complicated.” Whatever. Shakespeare would often
spring some kind of surprise comment on his reader here in the couplet.
You might want to return to the admiring tone of the first two quatrains.
You might say, “But you are still the apple of my eye."
And then it would rhyme with the line next to it.
So yes, sonnet writing is hard — at first. It’s a really good challenge
for a beginning writer. But if you can juggle those three things:
the rhyme scheme, the rhythm, and the structure,
and actually say something coherent and interesting while doing those things--
well, then you’ve done something pretty smart and pretty cool.
If you’re not my student, talk to your teacher about
his or her particular requirements, which might be different from these.
Good luck and happy sonnet writing!