(Guest post by Tama Boyle.)
The earliest example of this sonnet I could find comes from January 2008. Given, however, the reference to the Swedish Rounding System, it must have been composed sometime prior to 31 October 2006. It has all the elements needed for a great poem: Supermarkets, dairy products and loyalty cards. Enjoy!
O worthy Temple! Vast, unbounded Choice!
Sweet Sanctuary, O Haven thrice divine!
No Man abideth who, in earnest Voice,
Denies the wondrous Bounty which is Thine.
No Artefact exists that Thou know’st not,
Nor yet can Man such Articles create.
How might we meet expound this joyous Lot,
Or Thy Abundance, or Selection great?
And as within Thy boundless Sight we kneel
And wholesome lactic Prizes wrought in Fame,
By Feta’s holy Goats, pray, let us steal
All these, by Gouda’s Grace, in Cheese’s Name!
“All Buyers indigent could ne’er have missed ’em:
The OneCard and the Swedish rounding System!”
Note the play of caesura and enjambment, the pleasing turn of pace and tone between octave and sestet. Yeah, so it’s a bit shit. But, in all fairness, it couldn’t really have ended up any worse than the source material with which I had to work, viz. this shameless piece of purple prose from fellow State Highwayman, Ryan Sproull:
O Temple of Choice! O haven, delicious! What product exists that Thou hath [sic: tsk, tsk, grammar… BTB] not provided for me, my kith, my kin? There is none, and let no man say otherwise. Nay! The aforementioned hypothetical product doth not exist, for Thou art provider of all. How shall I greet Thee, as I cross the threshold of Thy automated doors? Shall I kneel before Thy electric eye, all-seeing as it is? I kneel with my heart, O Selection of Cheeses Both Caprine and Bovine. And the electric eye that sees my cardiac prostration is Thine. The purity of Thy fluorescence is deafening – let me be deafened! The sanctity of Thy vinyl is elevating – let me be, Elevator! Thou art my Onecard, my Fly Buys, my Love.
Tchoh! It is shameful in its brazenness. (Anyone for oxymorons?)
Aaaaanyway, as a bonus, I thought I would include this brief piece penned on 24 May 2006, possibly while drunk. It is one of, presumably, at least 66 I composed in the Spanish sextilla form. This particular sextilla is, again, one of at least several I composed on the matter of sex in my former life as an erotic bard by the name of Sextilla the Hun. (Warning: It does get a little blue in parts.)
Sextilla LXVI: Grope & Gropability
With tender tongue your form I traced
And skilful digits deeply probed.
Your bosom by my mouth embraced,
My member by your flesh enrobed.
What woman now would not attest
Sextilla sex is always best?