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Old 11-01-2001, 11:12 AM
Julie Julie is offline
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A recent challenge on another board:

Take one of Shakespeare's sonnets and write your own, using all of his end words.

My effort:

Based on WS's CXXXI

On seeing Art sans Paul, or Paul sans Art,
I shudder. How could two men be so cruel
And leave us naught to listen to but Heart,
Or Backstreet Boys, Celine Dion, or Jewel?
While in a record store, I still behold
Collected works; but I must staunch a groan.
For I have heard them all, and nothing bold,
Or new now has them both. They sing alone.
And to be sure I play them still, I swear.
He still leaves 'Celia just to wash his face.
And perhaps it would be much to bear
If he came back and no one took his place.
One song? One harmony? Such minute deeds
Spur art, and lift the pall that now proceeds.

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Old 11-01-2001, 07:26 PM
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RCL RCL is offline
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Here's a two-minute drill:

After Sonnet 130

(with apologies to WS and Rod McKuen)

That day we both awoke beneath the sun,
our bodies baking on the beach, skin red
and wet with sweat, we rose to have some fun.
I poured cold beer upon your sizzling head.
You peeled aside your shorts to show me white
thin crescent moons that haloed your sweet cheeks,
and I bared mine, much to your delight.
But then we cried as one: “Your body reeks!”
We plunged into the ocean, as you know,
and poached in briny broth without a sound,
and reddened more before we had to go.
You ran through sand, sprawling on the ground.
I followed you, and we made love so rare
the rareness of our flesh could not compare.

------------------
Ralph



[This message has been edited by RCL (edited November 23, 2001).]
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Old 11-09-2001, 01:27 PM
graywyvern graywyvern is offline
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BANNED POSTKismet (129)

Facing the real light afterwards, glaze-eyed, shame
Doesn't apply. We were absorbed by a lust
To grasp the inexplicable, and blame
More than the executioner of our trust.

Again and again, from diff'rent angles, straight
As rarely things run here, it dived and had
Blazoned itself before we knew the bait
Would poison us and drive us starkly mad.

And now, though glad pretence would have it so,
There WILL be no return from such extreme
Viewership. We're lost in epic woe
And all the world must undergo our dream

Sciamachy, till the final well
Has filled the sky with metaphors of hell.




[This message has been edited by graywyvern (edited November 09, 2001).]
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Old 11-09-2001, 03:14 PM
graywyvern graywyvern is offline
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The Forbidden Pronouns (116)

We press too close, though neither of us minds,
In bed the anodyne of married love.

Afraid, as of'en now, but not from finds;
Our issues, changed to bonds at one remove.
And Djuna, though you still are quick to mark
My least and thoughtless truancy, seem shaken
Free of some dark certitude. The bark

That used to scrape and urge despair, has taken
A homely turn. I almost rub his cheeks
And laugh to see with what droll pranks may come
A pest of other days, ago but weeks.

And when we flew, your relatives mouthed doom
But paid no heed to what our returning proved,
Cassandra being the only role they loved.
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Old 11-12-2001, 12:14 PM
graywyvern graywyvern is offline
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Easter 1960 (sonnet LXIV)

The shapes of Buddhas by the world defaced
A most particular portrait of our age;
And when our hopes, like towers, have been razed
There's left to lift the ashes with our rage.
Call it a test, task, a trade to gain
Other than prowling stooped on the triage shore.
I was a child when one such legerdemain
Began to promise flying cars in store,
I watched the image-whirl construct a state,
I wonder fearfully at its decay
As if a waking. Deserts ruminate
Where men cannot. I'd follow dreams away,
Were any swift conveyance mine to choose
On the stumble-way to where all choices lose.

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Old 11-14-2001, 09:51 AM
graywyvern graywyvern is offline
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Hazmat (29)

The mutinous affliction of my eyes
Has changed in ways most difficult to state
My whole response. A flock of night-heard cries

Hovers, with the threat of similar fate,

And in this fog i now can only hope
By more and further thwarts to be possessed.
Grazing the mottled pavement, shorn of scope
And clarity, i tremble at the least

Occurrence, both admiring and despising

Those who’ve coped by cleaving to the State.
At last, i swear off all despairs arising
Daily from a closing of the gate
That represents for me what struggle brings:
One lonely checker slid to the last rank kings.
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Old 11-14-2001, 10:07 AM
graywyvern graywyvern is offline
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The Return of Music (146)

When was there ever frith to last, on earth?
So soon are we returned to disarray,
And yet rail at the apparition of dearth
As if a glitter momentarily gay
Were stone and cave. But dwelling on a lease
As surely we do, and earning but to spend,
I still would rather suffer love’s excess
Than coldly pass an unremembering end.
Braver clad in the panoply of loss
And somewhat resigned to standup at the store
Oh let me fit my career of sorting dross
To times that need decision even more.
The haze withholds an abode for gods, not men.
Nomads lower their wind-torn voices then.

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Old 11-14-2001, 11:07 AM
graywyvern graywyvern is offline
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BANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTBANNED POSTSeven Heavens (62)

A master killer flees from ev’ry eye
And finds no place of rest in any part;
And though will then no ultimate remedy
For death ensue, his one may cheer the heart
Of millions. Meanwhile, children tempt the mine
And journalists with a grating buzz account
For nothing; poets struggle to define
Just exactly what they can’t surmount.
The Winds of Change ruffle the fields indeed.
Fads unknown to sage antiquity
Will spawn (along with bugs--), and we may read
Of armies, stars, and rare iniquity;

Or quietly sit beside, and silently praise
One i’ve been faithful to for all my days.


[This message has been edited by graywyvern (edited November 14, 2001).]
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