For fun. The creative writing class was given this exercise.  Write a Shakespearean sonnet. To my surprise I found I could.

I keenly write these sonnets to my love
And yet I’ll never see her on her own.
I send her poems that would mountains move
But she ignores them, leaving me alone.
I sit and watch her on the silver screen,
On video and DVD I drool.
As in great epics she does play the queen
While I with longing waste my time, a fool,
And yet the walls I cover of my room
With posters of her goddess shape and face
And into these my fantasies do zoom
Until my panting heart does beat apace
For she’s a star, Celeb, a Face, Grade A
And I’m an unknown dork, Oh sad the day.

Home Alone

Good Shakespeare’s sonnet shape I think is tough,

With rhymes and metre that are hard to find.

So ask not that I form these words so rough,

To make a poem which my love might mind.

For I must keep my thoughts of her well hid,

They cannot just be left to lie around.

My feelings need be kept beneath a lid,

And be they not returned, they’re best not found.

For I am proud and will not look the fool

And by her nonchalance be quite undone

I have my reputation to stay cool

And rather than that loose, will stand alone.

So if my passions unrequited be,

It’s best I saunter home – quite solitary.