Shall I compare thee to a hot pork pie?
No ta, nor neither steak and kidney, please.
And yet the scent of gravy flutters by
With sweet effluves of pale green mushy peas.
I dare thee, taste this deep-fried cod and chips
The crispy batter and the tang of salt
Malt vinegar, the subtle tang that nips
The flavour crisp and sharp as Cupid’s bolt.
Yet Brexit’s nets are full of fish delights
Though we’re divided by the sund’ring sea
And Ot’ley’s chippers closed now Sat’day nights
I’ll rustle newspaper and think of thee!
When love’s young dream’s a hot and pink pork pie:
Though crust may crumble, love will never die.
I think you will agree this sonnet has everything: food, love, topicality and timelessness. Well done ladies, I believe the Bard himself would be impressed by this effort!
It all started with this tweet:
Thank you to everyone who has taken part in Sonnet Sunday! I’ve had so much fun I’m considering making this a seasonal occurrence. Take this as fair warning to prepare your best Easter sonnet, with all its frills upon it…
Featured Image credit: Terry Kearney, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons