Sonnet Parody Poems

 ~Write me a Sonnet BUT, let it be known
no poems are allowed with names there upon.
No wordie finesse to impress or construe
like gossamer wing,...

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The morning is fair and without compare;
desire to escape commotion in motion.
With apologies to Frost, but I’m lost
in sylvan idyll; my thoughts to distil.
I should...

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"TWO SYLLABLES WENT MISSING TODAY"
Last seen with commas, running away.
The poet seems distressed and frantic
said it might be a Clerihew's antic.

Or wait, he cried, could...

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I wandered lonely as a cloud—Oh dear!
I watched the dance of daffodils—Oh my!
When on my couch in vacant mood I lie
And feel their wealthy fluttering...

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A WORDS WORTH
I recite and read aloud,
wander, lonely as a cloud,
then emulate and create
as memory stimulates;
Swim against poetry's tide
therein,an enigma hide,
perhaps,a step too far,with
Tennyson,crossing the...

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My husband's like to water, I to oil. 
We're masters of the knock-down, drag-out brawl. 
We just don't mix. I cause his blood to boil...

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my parody

My husband's like to water, I to oil.
We're masters of the knock-down, drag-out brawl.
We just don't mix. I cause his blood to boil
and he...

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“next to of course progress my planet i
love you, the ocean and the environ-
ment every person whether gay or bi
or trans or black, hispanic or...

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In reprimand of Donald Janus Tramp
     (the Grand Old Party's best and choicest loser,
who sleazed and promised us he'll “drain the...

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How would someone write an “urban” sonnet, 
When the formation of the poem is lame. 
Some poets will stray away from old bonnets, 
And some...

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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more miserable and more wet, mate
Rough guts do quake my darling's butt in May	
And shopping cheap...

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Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree
How I love thee

Where’s thy pine cone I want to see
That fills me with so much glee

And has me plead...

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Something Smells


Shall I compare you to a stinky fart?
Your stench is more profound and daunting  
Clean wind could blow such clouds apart 
Yet your...

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If there's kingdom of bad moments,
Its oubliette's sticking;
Where none owns any place, but-
Places own the being.

Cramping inside bad, ugly cells-
In graveyards locking in,
Inside cars or...

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Because my brilliant hooks read indirect,
But bait directly one illiterate,
They likely slip stripped fish-net intellect,
Thus, now, I’ll lure completely different:
Just like the redwood trees that...

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