Time: a cento poem based on Shakepeare's Sonnets
I have no time at all to spend
When I do count the clock that tells the time
So do our minutes hasten to their end
Beyond all date to eternity
Where wasteful time debateth with decay
Make war upon this bloody tyrant time
And three score year would make the world away
Times thievish progress to eternity
Pity me, then, and wish I were renewed
When I was certain over uncertainty
Not wondering at the present nor the the past
Alas, why fearful of time's tyranny?
Yet do thy worst, old Time, despite thy wrong
Against that time if ever that time come.
[a cento poem is made from lines taken from other poems see http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cento_(poetry)]
Jimali McKinnon
1 Feb 2014
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