A sonnet to Boob

Miss Boob, miss Boob with your shape so plump you excite and you annoy little babies, dear,

are hungry so, and yet you only let men play. Like a peacock you display your warm soft charms, dear,

are horrible nightmares of girls well endowed and women left behind cherrish the attention, dear,

all I have for you is love, in my heart I hold you dear.

This is a little ditty I slapped together after being challenged by one Ceridwen to find a way of joining together the topics of Shakespeare and my girlfriend. Naturally I couldn't pass up the challenge and since a dramaturgist I am not and there was once a time when I thought of myself as a bit of a poet the humble sonnet was an obvious choice.

However, the careful observer will note that the only semblance of a sonnet in this poem is the stanza structure, there is no rhyme to speak of - so not a sonnet, and the verse doesn't follow a ten syllable lambic pentameter either ... but hey, it was fun to write.

Just for the record, the whole intertwining of sentences and meaning between stanzas is just a little something I've lately picked up from Wilde's Charmides and The Burden of Itys.

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