Posted by Marty Neilan on December 06, 2002 at 01:56:06:
(C) 2002 Martin T. Neilan
Each day she loves to sit upon my lap.
She tickles as she rubs against my lips.
Her aim is chaste and pure with nare a trap.
We conversate for hours on made-up trips.
Her voice, so deep and pleasing to behold,
Its richness; poignant pleading to my soul.
She glistens with the shine of polished gold.
Such radiance makes my inner being whole.
The warmth of my breath makes her come alive.
She never doubts but trusts beyond belief.
The songs she sings inspire my inner drive.
Though others may have caused me pain and grief.
Oh yes, the tuba is my truest love,
Of all the women, now she sits above.
Story: I had to write a sonnet in the style of Shakespeare for my Rhetoric and Research class, due tomorrow (well, today, now.) My wife and I just had a major fight, so I did not have the mindset to complete what I had already outlined and started. So I thought of my 'other' love (and no, I don't really love the tuba more.) Feel free to read and distribute it, but remember it IS now a copyrighted work. I can email a word document wirh rhyme and rhythm scheme to anyone interested.
P.S. I am sure I could do better if I had more time - anyone else want to take a crack at it? We could send them all into the next ITEC ;)