Sonnets:

Writing sonnets is like a literary puzzle for me. They traditionally require a strict structure: Each line is made up of ten syllables. Every other line rhymes, until you get to the last two lines, which rhyme with each other. The Face In The Mirror Whoa! Stop the train! Tell me who could THAT be? I've caught a glimpse of a person I know; I was surprised by the mug I did see; I'd walked by the mirror. I felt the blow. 'Pitiful thing to see youth all undone, Summer's fruits long since harvested with joy. The days have been long and shiny and fun; I was a man who could still feel the boy. Now in the current, waterfalls are near. The movie really speeds up at the end. Let me imagine just how I appear, Realizing the mirror is no friend. Whoa! Stop the train! Tell me who could that be ? It must be someone who used to be me! Prunes If prunes start tasting good you should worry... If those dark, scrotal fruits are what you crave Your time is running out in a hurry Since you're packed with all your colon could save. The ambrosia of the elderly, This dark wrinkled bag of growth called a prune; If you are what you eat well then, surely You should look at what you're eating real soon! Symmetry's demanded by the Great Bowl: You can dish out only what you've put in; Prunes scare brown bunnies right out of the hole, And bad air tell people where you have been. I have been worried that I'm dying soon, As I've started liking the taste of prune!