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What I call a Semisonnet is basically a sonnet that doesn't follow all of the rules. Posted here for your enjoyment.

Prism

Of all the glim'ring gemsthis world can give,
of rubies, sapphires, emeralds, et all,
why choose a simple piece of glass with no
real beauty,value, shine or lore attached?
What purpose has a piece has a peace of glass to live,
compared to gems in terms of potential,
in a world that sparkles like fallen snow?
For me, no reason was easily reached.
But then your light shone through me, and I saw
that all the colors I admired were there,
emminating, of all places, from me.
Compared to me, all of those stones were raw,
knowing not of polish, or blade, or care,
or had but one color, not many.

Untitle Sonnet #1

It's so hard these days to get out of bed,
to start moving, to even keep breathing.
I walk as though I were among the dead,
with my soul gone and my body rotting.
My world has lost so much of its color,
since my eyes darkened and saw no more light,
that all walk around with ghostly palor
and my heart and mind know only of night.
When tears, without hesitation, do flow
through the darkened eyes of a dead spirit-
I confess this only to myself, know-
a buried thought so that none could hear it:
"I have long since lost the hope others gave.
I am not one that anyone could save."

The Wiseman

I went to speak to a wise man one day,
a hermit who sat each day on a rock.
I had thought long about what I would say,
hoping for wisdom that I could unlock.
"My heart has sought companionship for so long,
but now that I have found someone to be
close to, how do I keep that feeling strong?"
And after a pause he did answer me
with a voice as clear as the sky above,
but a tone of regret from his withdrawl:
"Tis better to live without knowing love
than to be heartbroken and lose it all."
When I hear my heart sing such a sad song
I wonder if the man was really wrong...

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I know nothing about poetry. I'm bad at it, my mind doesn't think poetically at all. But I really liked these. To many times have I read boring emo poetry from teenagers, about things like losing hope, friendship, always about loss... It makes me happy to see someone writing on other topics, gives me a little hope for poetry where I had none.

Good job.

Oh, and I noticed an error I think. The fifth line of Prism you repeated the phrase "has a piece" twice. I'm not sure if that was the intent, but I thought I'd just point it out incase it wasn't.