Shall I Compare Thee to a Rotting Corpse by Peregrin Ionad

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Author's Chapter Notes:

A bit of disturbing Orc poetry in the style of Shakespeare's sonnet 18:'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day'...It was inspired by a conversation on OSA (breaking type challenge) - it does not fit the iambic pentameter of Shakespeare's sonnet, but it is 14 lines...


“Shall I compare thee to a corpse,

Thou hast more maggots, and are more bloated.

When fierce winds shake thy spider-web locks

And the Dugolog sun blackens thy skin

So the crispy flakes fly free in summer’s breeze

Thy foul complexion is not crueller!

Most hideous things do at time decline,

And change to white-pale bones

But thou shalt forever-loathsome stay.

And lose’th not possession of that repulsiveness thou ow’st;

Nor shall a glob búbhost tark cut thee down

Whilst thou taste’th the sweet man-flesh,

So long as blood is sapid as bursted eyes

The fight is ours, like thy festering meat.”




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