It's not Shakespere
Well, then. As promised, here is an update, finally. It will please you all to know, I'm sure, that I'm in a much more felicitous frame of mind. School is out in three weeks, we have a cottage (such as it is), I have a babysitting job (along with my mom and sis, but what a GRAVY gig it is), and I'm gonna be workin and gettin money, and who knows, maybe I'll even end up in the U.P. this year...
Anyways, I've been meaning to improve my post quality, trying to get away from constant gripes and onto something cooler and more meaningful to others, etc. This may not get me there completely, but it's a start. It's my first, and hopefully only sonnet, that I wrote for my Brit Lit class. Sonnets are, frankly, exasperating, but I still kinda liked writting them. They're like a puzzle- you need to have a certain number of syllables in each line, with a certain pentameter (pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables) and certain lines have to rhyme. It's tricky getting just the right combination of words to have it fit AND make sense. Shakespere and other Renaissance men wrote lots of these, usually to impress the ladies. Having written one myself, if I ever get an original and good sonnet dedicated to me by some guy, that's gonna be some major, major points in his favor. I might even give him a title or something, like Queen Elizabeth... Anyways, I digress...
Untitled Sonnet
That damsel's countenance doth look, to me,
As one too colorless, ashen, and pale.
Indeed! A face of death is what I see.
But what can be the plague which so doth ail?
Alas! Her eyes of blue begin to dim.
Alack! Her knees (well-shaped and fair) do bend.
The objects in her view begin to swim.
Again I ask- What means caused this, her end?
The maid now sways, now falls! But quick is caught,
And speedily to nearby couch is borne.
At once her limbs are rubbed, cold water's brought,
While slow the circumstance 'pon me doth dawn.
For now its telling picture truth doth paint,
'Tis clear her gift of blood has made her faint.
This was inspired by a real life event- a classmate of mine really fainted- which was pretty big news the day it happened, and always got mentioned whenever the blood bus rolled into town. It happenes to you once, and you never live it down. Poor Melvie. I got lightheaded once, but I've given a gallon so far... Everybody get out there and give blood! It's the easiest and fastest way to save a life,plus you get cookies, Coke, and sometimes a free t-shirt or boxers. Some people even will pay you for plasma.
Anyways, I've been meaning to improve my post quality, trying to get away from constant gripes and onto something cooler and more meaningful to others, etc. This may not get me there completely, but it's a start. It's my first, and hopefully only sonnet, that I wrote for my Brit Lit class. Sonnets are, frankly, exasperating, but I still kinda liked writting them. They're like a puzzle- you need to have a certain number of syllables in each line, with a certain pentameter (pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables) and certain lines have to rhyme. It's tricky getting just the right combination of words to have it fit AND make sense. Shakespere and other Renaissance men wrote lots of these, usually to impress the ladies. Having written one myself, if I ever get an original and good sonnet dedicated to me by some guy, that's gonna be some major, major points in his favor. I might even give him a title or something, like Queen Elizabeth... Anyways, I digress...
Untitled Sonnet
That damsel's countenance doth look, to me,
As one too colorless, ashen, and pale.
Indeed! A face of death is what I see.
But what can be the plague which so doth ail?
Alas! Her eyes of blue begin to dim.
Alack! Her knees (well-shaped and fair) do bend.
The objects in her view begin to swim.
Again I ask- What means caused this, her end?
The maid now sways, now falls! But quick is caught,
And speedily to nearby couch is borne.
At once her limbs are rubbed, cold water's brought,
While slow the circumstance 'pon me doth dawn.
For now its telling picture truth doth paint,
'Tis clear her gift of blood has made her faint.
This was inspired by a real life event- a classmate of mine really fainted- which was pretty big news the day it happened, and always got mentioned whenever the blood bus rolled into town. It happenes to you once, and you never live it down. Poor Melvie. I got lightheaded once, but I've given a gallon so far... Everybody get out there and give blood! It's the easiest and fastest way to save a life,plus you get cookies, Coke, and sometimes a free t-shirt or boxers. Some people even will pay you for plasma.
Labels: Poetry, Public Service Announcement, The Memoirs of an Amnesic Neurotic
5 Comments:
at least she didn't think she'd just had a baby, lol. interestingly enuff, the blood drive is friday!! oh, and the gripe posts are hilarious, so who cares if they're beneficial or whatever:^)
heehee
i liked the sonnet
psh tush. if i ever get a sonnet from a prospective suitor, i think i'll laugh. no offence, i appreciate the effort put in and all that.
but if a guy writes love sonnets, it says something to me about what kind of a guy he is...
besides, love is a waste of time.
"Love is a waste of time."
Psh tush yourself m'girl... Love is not a waste of time, ever. If nothing else, it is repeatedly commanded of us by God... "Love thy neighbor" "Love thy enemy" "Love God above all and thy neighbor as thyself..."
Yeah, sonnets have kinda become uncool, and I'd probably laugh at a foppish one, but a witty one like mine would just blow me away! ;)
And wow... Dren liked something I wrote. I'm in shock.
Erika: Thank-you for the support of my gripes!!! And that was kinda ironic about the blood drive. I miss the blood bus- it came to you, instead of vice versa. So much more convenient.
its a terrifying thought, but now that i'm starting to understand and appreciate poetry...its kinda weird...
congrats on the JOB!!!...lol...now if I could just find one...
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