I wrote some sonnets for my english class.  Read and enjoy or maybe they’re not very good.  I’m not really sure.  I’ve never written any sonnets before. Three of them (Baseball, India and Haiti) are subjects I’m very familiar with. Death, I’m not so familiar with, I’m not sure why I ended up writing about it.



Final separation from those held near
Friend and kindred gather around the grave
Certain fate to which we all are held slave
Ornate pine carries the body, washed with a tear.

Look death in the face but please try not to leer.
Fear and trembling show, how to behave?
Ambivalence takes hold, do not cave
Choices made make destination clear.

The dirge is such a melancholy tune
Declaring the end of a life lived well
Long procession in black tells he’s well loved.

All will disperse to their old routine soon
Turning away with a sadness un-quelled
The occasional visit, he still hasn’t moved.


A language and rhythm all its own
Not bound by uniformity or time
Green and brown bordered by some ground-up lime
Buttoned up polyester is their gown

History is its sturdy foundation
Ruth and Aaron; Maddux, Koufax, and Young
Father with son, stranger and friend they’re among,
Teaches the game to new generation

Ball and bat, glove and cap, leather and dirt
All elements of a game rich in lore
Numbers paint a picture beyond the score
Simple enough to not make your brain hurt.

Home runs and strikeouts release the passion
The beautiful game forever in fashion.



Every color under the sun shines bright
Towers rise from the heartbeat of the slums.
Brahmin to Dalit renders a foul slight.
The lowest have to beg even for just crumbs

Billion people crowd the street, how it hums!
Cars and busses and rickshaws flap your hair
Toothless beggars tap window selling gums
Rupies their prize, a dollar’s a rich fare!

Many thousands flock to Agra, stop and stare
Tribute to fertile, favored companion
From Mughal ruler who treated her with care
But grieved her death during parturition.

Growing economy brings hope anew
The worlds trust they desire to renew.



Dearest Haiti, you have been held hostage,
The devil had his brutal way with you,
Result of freedom from France by witches brew,
No trees remain for the mountains a bandage.

Your land once, most fertile among nations,
Now barren and naked, washing away
Your hills get smaller each and every day
Your children are hungry, fed by ration.

Hope is a far off fantasy, why try?
Your rulers have forgotten the people
Whose hopes and dreams they kill and they trample.
Nations see your helpless estate, pass by.

A country once thought to be a jewel
Now a visit and you’re thought a fool.