Sonnets Here, In-House

Moving right along....

Since I did a country-western sonnet months ago, it's time for another parody:

I Got Them Pick Your Nose With A Dirty Cigarette You Found In The Gutter Blues

I came home drunk and threw up on the floor.
I came home drunk and threw up on the floor.
I came home drunk and threw up on the floor,
Because my girl don't love me anymore.

I lay down there and slept in my own puke.
I lay down there and slept in my own puke.
I lay down there and slept in my own puke;
My baby ran off with a bum named Duke.

This morning, headache split my skull in half.
This morning, headache split my skull in half.
This morning, headache split my skull in half;
I stink so much, I just might need a bath.

Dang low life's gettin' ugly as a bruise;
I might write sonnets, but they're still the blues.

 
Since I did a country-western sonnet months ago, it's time for another parody:

I Got Them Pick Your Nose With A Dirty Cigarette You Found In The Gutter Blues

I came home drunk and threw up on the floor.
I came home drunk and threw up on the floor.
I came home drunk and threw up on the floor,
Because my girl don't love me anymore.

I lay down there and slept in my own puke.
I lay down there and slept in my own puke.
I lay down there and slept in my own puke;
My baby ran off with a bum named Duke.

This morning, headache split my skull in half.
This morning, headache split my skull in half.
This morning, headache split my skull in half;
I stink so much, I just might need a bath.

Dang low life's gettin' ugly as a bruise;
I might write sonnets, but they're still the blues.


HAHA! I had to keep from bursting out into loud laughter. :D
 
Thank you, Sopespian. Only, you do realize that this latest parody IS NOT supposed to be country, don't you? This one is supposed to be the blues, as in Chicago and New Orleans and John Belushi.
 
Thanks Copperfox not only for the sonnets for Glenburne and Tom for Close Encounters, but for the sweet Christian Fairy and love one you did for Tom as well. Your muse is one that consistently edifies and points to the higher path... with good humor.
 
Current mood: Speechless

Copperfox, I just went through all 157 pages of your thread (there was some skimming involved, but I got the gist of everything...ha!)
Your sonnets are incredible! :eek::cool: I saw a glimpse into your life's window, plus your struggles and joys have given me hope that I will have brighter days ahead!

Accept my belated condolences on your previous losses, and I heartily congratulate you and your sparkling-new wife! Blessings!
----
My goodness, I've practically pulled an "all nighter". Gotta crash for a few short hours. lol :D
 
Making Good On My Threat!

Dear Julianna, good librarian,
You've shown you have enough attention span
To read my sonnet thread, not merely scan,
Thus grasping more about just where I am.

You've seen me counsel teeny-bopper types,
Responding to their questions and their gripes.
Sometimes it happens that a sonnet wipes
Their tears away, if they'll put down their Skypes.

It may be that my verses have some flaws,
But I don't think they break poetic laws.
With online counterpart of talking jaws,
I'm still upholding literacy's cause.

Librarians know what can help young minds.
Now, Julianna, YOU should write some lines!
 
Making Good On My Threat!

Dear Julianna, good librarian,
You've shown you have enough attention span
To read my sonnet thread, not merely scan,
Thus grasping more about just where I am.

You've seen me counsel teeny-bopper types,
Responding to their questions and their gripes.
Sometimes it happens that a sonnet wipes
Their tears away, if they'll put down their Skypes.

It may be that my verses have some flaws,
But I don't think they break poetic laws.
With online counterpart of talking jaws,
I'm still upholding literacy's cause.

Librarians know what can help young minds.
Now, Julianna, YOU should write some lines!
Thank you, Sir. ;) I'm only good at nonsense poems, or birthday cards.

Julianna got a sonnet,
Such a pretty little sonnet,
Julianna got a sonnet,
On a sunny Wed-nes-day.

She almost burst her bonnet,
(Her nonexistent bonnet),
She almost burst her bonnet,
But - instead it ran away.


:D
 
Last edited:
In Anticipation of
the Les Miz Movie

Anne Hathaway is BOR-ING to my taste,
But I'll give her the benefit of doubt.
If Russell Crowe can sing, Javert is aced;
But Jean Valjean is what the book's about.

It's easy laughing at Thenardier,
And smiling at the courtship of Cosette.
But Jean Valjean's the center of the play,
And casting Wolverine's a risky bet.

Hugh Jackman can perform the angry parts;
He'll give his X-Man scowl when facing wrong;
He'll be convincing lifting fallen carts;
But can he do a tender, loving song?

The man who keeps his promise to Fantine
Must have more than the claws of Wolverine.
 
I pretty much agree with your sonnet, well except for Anne Hathway, I think she's prettier than the girl who played fantine in the version I watched with Liam Neelson. I thought he did a excellent job so I'm curious to see how Mr. Jackman does as Jean Valjean. I'm also curious to see how well "Marius" does.
 
I pretty much agree with your sonnet, well except for Anne Hathway, I think she's prettier than the girl who played fantine in the version I watched with Liam Neelson.

Almost _anyone_ is better-looking than the overrated Uma Thurman. It's just that I find Anne Hathaway sort of bland and white-bread-ish.
 
AFTER Seeing The Movie


Don't ask me if I'll join in your crusade,
Until I know what you're crusading for.
But I'm not slow to say the film displayed
Performances well worthy of the score.

As I have told young Salty-Heart, the end
Was better than I dared to hope I'd see;
It wasn't just about a social trend--
It showed Valjean ALIVE eternally!

No "economic justice" can provide
The comfort of that many-mansioned house.
Valjean, alive again when he had died,
Heard God's own promise right from Fantine's mouth.

And she did not just comment in this part;
She showed she loved Valjean with all her heart. :)
 
A Stream-of-Consciousness Sonnet


I sat down with no clue what I would write.
The singer Mason Williams, years before,
Did something similar; his mood was light
In what he called his Dada songs. He tore

His way through random titles, wrote the tunes,
And retroactively stuck lyrics in.
The pagans might see this as casting runes.
At any rate, when inspiration's thin,

A figurative shot fired in the dark
May find some target for the poet's muse.
This ramble through a pathless verbal park
Is not a method that I often choose;

But still, it's helped me fill up fourteen lines.
I hope I shall commit no greater crimes.
 
Very well written, Copper. And you last two poam about Les Mis are very good to. Especially the first one. My thoughts exactly.
 
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