“To Thine Own Self”

(Hamlet: Shakespeare)

 

 

No offence to the Bard,

But I found it quite hard

When composing a sonnet

My face had a frown on it….

 

His iambic pentameter

Could not have been sweeter –

Mine should have been neater….

 

His verse flowed like sweet wine,

Every word quite divine –

Rough and ready, was mine!

 

 

 

But discouraged I’m not:

What small talent I’ve got –

Yes, I know, not a lot! –

Shall be channelled into

Writing, best I can do –

In my own fashion, too…..

To mine own self be true