A while ago I took the first line of a famous poem and then created my own. Here’s another… a sonnet of course…
Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day
Or chocolate spread on buttered toast?
Both sound grand, warm and cozy but that’s most-
-ly rubbish, cos one’s a mess, the other’s grey.
The thing is, you see, we’re prone to praise
Anything the Bard declaimed, even if , on
Close inspection, it’s clear to all that none
Of it makes much sense and it’s just a phrase
That fits the scan. We think we see some uni-
-versal truth when actually all he’s done
Is resort to glib cliché. See, no-one
Is beyond trite. Even the great are puny
When spread thin. My advice is: Leave the poet
To do his thing, or you’ll surely rue it.