Scorn Not the Sonnet

I am the sonnet, never quickly thrilled;
Not prone to overstated gushing praise
Nor yet to seething rants and anger, filled
With overstretched opinions to rephrase;
But on the other hand, not fond of fools,
And thus, not fond of people, on the whole;
And holding to the sound and useful rules,
Not those that seek unjustified control.
I'm balanced, measured, sensible (at least,
I think I am, and usually I'm right);
And when more ostentatious types have ceased,
I'm still around, and doing, still, alright.
In short, I'm calm and rational and stable -
Or, well, I am, as much as I am able.
What Poetry Form Are You?



zhoen said...

Without taking the test, I'd say either haiku or limerick. Better go check though...

susanna said...

I took the test and I'm a sonnet, too! Whoo hoo! I love the option of dropping a cream bun off a 60+ floor building. Hah! Of course I wouldn't do it. That would be mean. (But so funny!)

susanna said...

Hey, Pacian, would you mind emailing me the permalink to that story of yours that I love - the one about the man with the girls with wings living on his roof? If you don't mind, I'd like to mention it in a blog post this week. Just a thought. No pressure. PUHLEEZE? ;p

susanna said...

I mean, a girl with wings.

Tinker said...

Hmm, I had thought I might be a limerick, but then apparently not - according to the test:

I'm the lai, with no sort
Of grave, solemn thought,
And I
Will never be caught
By miseries sought,
Nor sigh;
Where battles are fought
Or arguments brought,
I fly.

(If you were not a Lai you would be Blank Verse)

Since I'm not acquainted with lai's, I suppose I'll take blank verse, though I'd prefer to be a sonnet, it's much more romantic and grand.