15 minutes of Sonnet 25

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It’s not love they play it’s another game

Where what matters is who can count the most

Playing duck and dive, surfers search for fame

Notching names upon digital bedposts


Their followers adore them with their likes

Each character praised as if from God

If their own petard hoists them onto spikes

Then surely, it’s the crowd that has turned odd.


Their ledger marking many deeds done good

Will be erased once they are found at fault

Their loving crowds will bay and call for blood

And strike them down with Twitter thunderbolts


If you want numbers, be happy with a few

Seek out friends steadfast, faithful strong and true



◄ Doors

Insignificance ►


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Graham Parker

Mon 29th Apr 2019 09:46

Thank you Martin, I really appreciate that

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Martin Elder

Sun 28th Apr 2019 15:41

This has a great lyrical feel to it Graham,

Nice one

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Graham Parker

Sat 27th Apr 2019 08:55

Day 27, we were challenged to take a Shakespearean sonnet and transform it with our own words. I randomly chose the number of my birthday and, through serendipity, it happened to chide with something I've mulled over for a while. I hope you like it.

Here's the original.

Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.

Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.

The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foil'd,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd:

Then happy I, that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove nor be removed.

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