365 Sonnets is completed! While there be no more new posts, feel free to read the sonnets and comment! :)

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Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Sonnet LVIII

Ah Fame, you were my King of long ago.
What are you now, I ask you, what are you?
You are a wretched beggar, on my streets,
Abandoned from my Kingdom, foul fool.

Ah Fame, you Tyrant, now I see your truth:

A bitter Trickster, digging cavities
for those of noble talent to fall through
and never see the light of modesty

You never crowned your subjects with fair crowns
(you never will, you idiotic prince)
you’ll always use your wiles to cheat our share

Of lowliness and honour, not a pinch!

It seems, when you had ruled my dim domain
you conned me for your own disastrous gain.


  1. Experimenting with unconventional line breaks and punctuation, inspired by the marvellous A.M. Juster.

  2. Thanks to Phoenix, I corrected "an pinch" to "a pinch"! Merci beaucoup!


A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

Thanks, Wordle!