Prelude to a sonnet: (AN APOLOGY TO WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE)
| Lo, I envisage the poor bard William turning in his grave |
| "What matter of sonnet is this" he screameth, "you pilfering knave" |
| "Fourteen lines your poetry hath, but iambic pentameter lacking, |
| "Refrain you from my good name spoiling, or I'll have you go a-packing". |
| Knees knocking hard before the bard, I hastened to explain; |
| "Vikram, sir, I'll study him, and not bring you too much shame" |
| At long last, he relented, but first called me a pain; |
| "If your readers throw tomatoes at you, I'm taking none of the blame" |
| So there, good reader, here I am, presenting to you my page; |
| I too have finally succumbed, as you can see, to Netscape's latest rage |
| Now that you're here, I pray you, please tarry on a little, |
| Leave not so, in a hurry, and break my tiny heart brittle. |
| Instead, allow me, good sir, to take you on a journey; |
| Don't say you have to take your leave, for that's a load of baloney. |
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| A student I am, a second year one, at this institution called Cambridge |
| My best friend Porks, she does English, nearer home at Kent Ridge; |
| I do Economics, and on odd days, scribble thoughts on Keynes and Friedman, |
| More often you'll catch me though, watching FRIENDS and that gal Aniston. |
| David Shwimmer, that darlin' blur-king, is cute but still quite DUH, |
| I can't find anything to rhyme with that so I can only go, "EUR...." |
| (balek) |
| I travel somewhat, with mates from school, and mom and pops sometimes, |
| It takes a chunk off my account, of English pounds and dimes, |
| Just twelve moons ago, I ventured to Bolivia, far and away that was |
| To build a church, for wondrous folk, a fine experience it sure twas. |
| And here we reach, our story's end, for the verse is getting lame |
| Your shackles I remove, and let you go, even if to stay you're game |
| To you fair damsel, and kind sir, thank you for dropping in; |
| Come again soon in the future and let our adventure again begin. |
