Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings. |
My Tennis Racket
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Sonnet 30 by Edmund SpenserMy Love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great Is not dissolved through my so hot desire, But harder grows the more I her entreat? Or how comes it that my exceeding heat Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold, But that I burn much more in boiling sweat, And feel my flames augmented manifold? What more miraculous thing may be told, That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice, And ice, which is congeal’d with senseless cold, Should kindle fire by wonderful device? Such is the power of love in gentle mind, That it can alter all the course of kind. |
My Brother (A Parody of Sonnet 30)
My brother is evil and I am good
What evilness can be that annoying? He does evil things that I never would That brat can be so manipulating His voice can ruin my beautiful day His face is too scary for Halloween Without trying he scares people away Of all the things I wish I had never seen He tortures me and is always so mean He always finds a way to make me mad Always trying to rip my favorite jeans The time when he sleeps is when I’m glad If one day he suddenly disappeared Large crowds would gather and we would all cheer |
Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare. |
My Laptop (A Parody of Sonnet 130)
My laptop thinks it’s better than others;
Its gray is far more gray than it is black; If it could it would like to surpass Brother’s; If the world lets, it would mount an attack. I have seen laptops in red, blue, and green; But none compared to its beautiful gray; They just make my laptop want to be seen; The others won’t want to come out and play. I love my laptop but not its arrogance; I know the newer ones are much better; But mine just wants to show off in a dance; My laptop thinks its such a go-getter. Maybe it will be friendly in the race, But I know what will never be the case. |
Holy Sonnet 10 by John Donne
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so: For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure -then from thee much more must flow; And soonest our best men with thee do go - Rest of their bones, and souls' delivery! Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desp'rate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well, And better, than thy stroke; -why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die. |
School, School, Don't Be Late
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Sonnet 75 by Edmund Spenser
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide, and made my pains his prey. Vain man, said she, that doest in vain assay A mortal thing so to immortalize, For I myself shall like to this decay, And eek my name be wiped out likewise. Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise To die in dust, but you shall live by fame: My verse your virtues rare shall eternize, And in the heavens write your glorious name. Where whenas Death shall all the world subdue, Out love shall live, and later life renew. |
For the Love of Food (A Parody of Sonnet 75)
She was the color of the orchid shade,
The smell of sugar plum of christmas eve; Her prince of brown color above her laid-- My sandwich of peanut butter jelly. I place this food inside my big belly; My stomach beckons as if to rebel, And when i take my bag to go and leave, My stomach hurts too much, so then I yell With all my might in pain of mass fury. No police siren can compare in noise Than when that food i’ve loved so much hurt me And caused me to abandon my good poise. "Curse this food that makes me feel so ill, I'd rather just eat fish that I can grill!" |