Shakespeare’s Sonnet Style Halloween Themed!
Remember, a Shakespearean sonnet is a 14-line poem written in iambic pentameter with a specific rhyme scheme of abab cdcd efef gg. It is composed of three quatrains (four-line stanzas) that develop an idea and a concluding rhyming couplet that provides a resolution or a twist.
Here are 7 sonnets to get us all better acquainted with the Shakespearean sonnet. Pay attention to the rhyme scheme, and rhyming couplet ending each stanza.
1. Sonnet of the Haunted Moon
When pale October’s ghost ascends the skies,
And silver’d mist creeps low o’er grave and glen,
The silent owl proclaims where darkness lies,
And sleep betrays the hearts of mortal men.
The moon, that pale deceiver of the night,
Doth smile upon the tombs with ghastly grace,
While specters glide, enrobed in ashen light,
And whisper secrets none may dare to face.
Each leaf that falls doth speak of souls long fled,
Each breeze recalls the sighs of those once known,
Till earth herself seems risen from the dead,
Her hollow heart with mournful voices grown.
Yet still we gaze, and love her eerie art,
For beauty dwells where shadows touch the heart.
2. Sonnet of the Pumpkin’s Glow
Upon the threshold sits a grinning flame,
Its hollow smile doth mock the timid heart,
Within that gourd, no mortal soul lays claim,
Yet in its light, all wicked fears depart.
The harvest moon looks on with golden eye,
As rustling cornstalks whisper soft and near,
Each ember laughs beneath the autumn sky,
And warms the bones of those who linger here.
Though all the night be ruled by ghost and ghoul,
This lantern guards the hearth from foul surprise,
A beacon bright to foil the dark’s cruel rule,
Its gaze both jest and warning to the wise.
So let it burn till cock’s first cry of morn,
For dawn’s pure light from fear anew is born.
3. Sonnet of the Witch’s Flight
High o’er the moor she sails on sable wings,
Her laughter trails like thunder through the air,
The cauldron’s hiss, the charm the darkness sings,
Proclaim her craft, both beautiful and rare.
She stirs the storm with fingers tipped in flame,
And calls the night to serve her ancient will,
Each whispered word doth bear the Devil’s name,
Yet in her eyes, a deeper sorrow still.
For love once spurned hath driven her to power,
Her heart a tomb, her soul a midnight sea,
And in each spell she seeks that fatal hour,
When death might yield the peace that life won’t free.
Thus mortals fear her, yet she weeps alone,
A queen of dark with heart of ash and bone.
4. Sonnet of the Restless Grave
Beneath the churchyard’s yew, the sleepers rest,
Their names near worn from stone by time’s embrace,
Yet when the moon rides high, at her behest,
The soil doth stir, revealing death’s pale face.
A hand protrudes, still clutching mortal sin,
The echo of a vow not kept in life,
And from that grave, a ghostly voice begins,
To plead for mercy, peace, or end of strife.
The living flee, yet none may truly hide,
For conscience keeps the dead alive in dream,
Till dawn doth come, and shadows slip aside,
And silence swallows every mortal scream.
For death is patient, soft of tread and tone,
It waits for all—till none may call their own.
5. Sonnet of the Masquerade of Night
Tonight the mask conceals both saint and sin,
The ballroom draped in candlelight and fear,
No soul knows where the ghostly jest begins,
For death himself may dance beside you here.
A thousand faces gleam in gold and black,
Each smile a dagger hidden in delight,
The viols play, yet none dare turn their back,
Lest they should meet the Reaper in his right.
And when the clock strikes twelve, the mirth will fade,
Each dancer left to ponder who was real,
The rose will wilt, the silks begin to shade,
And cold shall claim what warmth did once conceal.
For every joy hath shadow at its core,
And none may mask the grave forevermore.
6. Sonnet of the Werewolf’s Lament
When midnight wakes, I shun my mortal skin,
And beastly sinews bind my soul in flame,
The blood-red moon commands what sleeps within,
And tears from me all trace of gentle name.
The forest knows my howl, my cursed tread,
The deer and dove take flight at sound of me,
For though I live, I walk among the dead,
A slave to hunger none but death can free.
Would that the dawn might cleanse this savage breast,
And bid me love without such dreadful cost,
Yet each new morn but grants a brief, false rest,
For in each night, my humanity is lost.
Still, should she call my name through shadow’s seam,
I’d die to wake, if only in her dream.
7. Sonnet of All Hallows Eve
This is the night when veil and world grow thin,
When spirits cross as candles faintly gleam,
And those once lost may wander back again,
Through mist and time, as though within a dream.
The children roam in laughter, guise, and glee,
Unknowing of the souls that walk beside,
The old wind stirs with ancient mystery,
As moonlight gilds the graves where tears have dried.
Yet fear not, heart, for darkness is not foe,
It merely shows where mortal light has gone,
A shadow cast by love that still may glow,
Till dawn restores what dusk has overthrown.
So let this night remind both ghost and guest,
That death is sleep, and love the soul’s true rest.