Sonnet of the Day, 28 April 2015
04-28-2015, 04:35 PM (This post was last modified: 02-05-2018, 01:06 PM by Bob Schroeck.)
04-28-2015, 04:35 PM (This post was last modified: 02-05-2018, 01:06 PM by Bob Schroeck.)
I met a Tothric in a darkened midden
And he said: Two vasty mounds of waste
Stand in the valley. Near them, half-hidden
In muck, a plaster visage lies, whose face
And pouty gaze, and stare of blank-eyed blue,
Tell that its maker not a whit did care
About its art, nor semblance of lifelike hue,
But only to make the twelfth that day ere
For coffee black and sweet could morning break.
And on its bust in Sharpie ink appear:
"My name is Haughty Mannequin, rack of chic,
Look on haute couture, poor ones, and despair!"
No scrap upon't yet hangs. Round the chipped feet
Of that gypsum wreck, with putrid air
All trash and discards at last meet.
-- William "Spike" Pratt
Helen's still having problems writing, but we're getting a little more done here and there. Just wanted to let folks know that this isn't forgotten by any measure, though.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
And he said: Two vasty mounds of waste
Stand in the valley. Near them, half-hidden
In muck, a plaster visage lies, whose face
And pouty gaze, and stare of blank-eyed blue,
Tell that its maker not a whit did care
About its art, nor semblance of lifelike hue,
But only to make the twelfth that day ere
For coffee black and sweet could morning break.
And on its bust in Sharpie ink appear:
"My name is Haughty Mannequin, rack of chic,
Look on haute couture, poor ones, and despair!"
No scrap upon't yet hangs. Round the chipped feet
Of that gypsum wreck, with putrid air
All trash and discards at last meet.
-- William "Spike" Pratt
Helen's still having problems writing, but we're getting a little more done here and there. Just wanted to let folks know that this isn't forgotten by any measure, though.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.