Shakespeare's Nightmare
Poor William turns and moans within his grave:
Within a phrase, one simple turn can bind
the most creative stirrings of the mind
and poet to cliché becomes a slave.
Exist but in uniqueness and repent
for rhyming verse you penned with “love” and “dove”
and last week’s sonnet found “push comes to shove” -
the future of our language I lament…
But surely, there must be another choice
than bland insertions placed but for the rhyme
which, with their frequency, are meaningless.
‘Tis poet death to speak with borrowed voice –
transcend the obvious to reach sublime,
allow poor William his most peaceful rest.
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