Labels: confessions, espial
Labels: education, rants
I turn and try to catch his eye
but he will never do me the honour
come out and fight like a man
we are playing chess
but I never see my opponent
while he watches me everywhere
how do I attack when he will not show weakness
it is not a game I ever wanted to play
our game will end when he wins
but we are early in the game yet
he has plotted his strategy a hunderd steps ahead
while I am only here and now
and I don’t know where the game is going
I know a place where grown-ups do not go. A place they have forgotten many moons ago. It's not a place with neon lights. It's not bursting at the seams. It's not a place that you can see. It's just a place you feel.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
How DARE you compare me to a summer’s day. Summer days are a cent a dozen in Malaysia if you haven’t noticed. So very low-class. And common!
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Yes yes I know I am lovely. But temperate? I am not temperate! I am sizzling. Sizzling I tell you! Temperate indeed. Did you mean placid instead? Like a cow chewing her cud in her muddy field? Heaven forbid the image of ME as a cow.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
Rough winds? Choi! Are you trying to curse me or something? Might as well set a tornado on me. I heard it’s quite calm in the eye of the storm. And I think I’ll be quite happy after I see you spinning by in the ‘rough winds’.
And summer's lease hath all too short a date;
You’re saying I’m ... I’m old!
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
I burn you! You hate me!
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
My face! It does not dim.
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
First rough winds, now this. Didn’t your mother teach you to keep quiet when you have nothing nice to say? Do you absolutely have to tell me that I’ll grow old and wrinkly? Well? Do you?
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
So now you’re saying it’s my destiny.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
I guess summer isn’t that bad.
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Dear boy, the in thing is a glowing tan, not ghost-white skin.
Not shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
Death. In a love poem. Right.
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;
I have this vision of a very old tree. Ah well. It will go with the cow, I suppose.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
Well, they do say we shall be extinct sooner rather than later.
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Oh yes, this sonnet. Paints me in such a beautiful light, doesn’t it? Sigh. Maybe you should just keep it simple. Three words.
I love you.
no offence to shakespeare! he's amazing and we worship him.
but this jumped into my head and wouldn't go away. poor shakespeare.