And don ye bear-proof suit
Pour claret on the grinding wheel
When rhyme-trees do bear fruit
Your sharpest tongues and keenest wit
Hack verily (and couplet-slice)
Do battle each for glory writ
For Bacchus! For our fav'rite vice!
Calm me now, oh breath's sweet air
A crescent moon, a setting sun
Pretty flowers and maiden fair
Like tree-sap words will run.
There it lies my 'sential list
Not twenty count, but have I missed?
Not twenty count, but have I missed?
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5 comments:
For those who care, the form is an English sonnet with ababcdcdefefgg end rhyming, a turn in mood (volta) at the ninth line, and self-reflection in the last couplet. Not so good with the iambic pentameter but I'll try harder next time.
damn fine!
holy crap, man, you're takin this to the next level, ow, ow!!
Structure! I need structure!
Great use of the structure! You nailed it! I think the last sonnet I attempted was at the pinnacle of my teen angst and was accompanied by all the grandiosity that goes along with it.
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