I often ask myself: "When will return the glory of your prime?" and this little sneering voice replies in the back of my head "never." Oh, that voice! How cruel and mocking it is to me! Especially when my wonderful friend John died, it reminded me "Death will come," laughing at my sadness upon his death.
Above my own death, though, I fear my Mary's death. She may not be the only woman in my life, but she's still important to me! I often say to her that when she is gone, Love itself shall slumber on, but she just scoffs at me as she has often been doing. : (
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Take THAT, Horace!
I so totally beat you. Not only did I finish my interpretation of Ozymandias before you, it's totally WAY better than yours!
Let's compare now, shall we?
ME: I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away
YOU: In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:
"I am great OZYMANDIAS," saith the stone,
"The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
"The wonders of my hand." The City's gone,
Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten Babylon.
We wonder, and some Hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragments huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.
Can you not see how much better my rhyme scheme is? Yours is just kind of... eh. The way I expressed the idea is just far superior to yours, yours just doesn't flow the same way mine does. Also, mine is so much better because it didn't reference London, I mean, your last two lines are okay, I'll give you that, but mine just expresses the idea in a much simpler and less explicit way.
Sorry, better luck next time. (Even though in all our competitions, I always win) ;D
Let's compare now, shall we?
ME: I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away
YOU: In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:
"I am great OZYMANDIAS," saith the stone,
"The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
"The wonders of my hand." The City's gone,
Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten Babylon.
We wonder, and some Hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragments huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.
Can you not see how much better my rhyme scheme is? Yours is just kind of... eh. The way I expressed the idea is just far superior to yours, yours just doesn't flow the same way mine does. Also, mine is so much better because it didn't reference London, I mean, your last two lines are okay, I'll give you that, but mine just expresses the idea in a much simpler and less explicit way.
Sorry, better luck next time. (Even though in all our competitions, I always win) ;D
Pretty women...
In order: My wife and lover, Mary.
Her sister ;D
....annddd my ex-wife. She was pretty, but she was SUCH a prude!
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