Friday, 14 July 2017

Sonnet 1dot8

Here's one you may have read  before...

It's a sonnet? Crivvens!

Ok, so Wullie Shakes wrote 154 of these 14-line epics and I've hardly penned a dozen, but time is on my side - and yon bard is deid lang syne.

Sonnet 1dot8


Shall I compare her to a summer's day;
how would such measure fare? I remonstrate:
all prose conveys its meaning come what may,
whilst poems, let's say, are fine attempts to state,

sometimes relate, with metaphor and themes,
our higher selves, we human beings' grace,
yet every foot that taps this rhythm seems
to question why we'd limit half the race

to gloried days, give mummer's praise, assign
by that a trope that's toiled – I fear that's lame.
Unfailing fair and full of life she rhymes,
outshines all suns that set in blushing shame.

As long as she adorns this world you'll see,
far more than summers' days is she to me.

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