Reviving the Corps ***, Mostly Iambic Shakespearean Sonnet Options

[Michelle]

Reviving the Corps - (working title)


Revision #1 w/edit


A rancid undertone pollutes the breeze,
so subtle it eludes our busy noses.
The stench has grown by miniscule degrees
without our note, unless we’re smelling roses.

What rotting corpse corrupts and taints the air,
from north to south, from western coast to east,
from fruited rural vale to city square?
Our constituted freedoms are deceased.

Tin cups are beat to make a shackle cuff
and safety nets entrap domestic fish
for confiscated tax is not enough
to satisfy a socialistic wish.

America, wake up! It’s time to stand
for freedom’s torch is slipping from your hand.




Original


A rancid undertone pollutes the breeze,
so subtly alluding busy noses.
The stench has grown by minuscule degrees
without our note, unless we’re smelling roses.

What pungent body rots and taints the air,
from north to south, from western coast to east,
from fruited rural vale to city square?
Our epitome of freedom is deceased.

Tin cups are forged to make a shackle cuff
and safety nets can hold domestic fish.
No confiscating tax is quite enough
to satisfy a socialistic wish.

America, wake up! It's time to stand
for freedom's torch is passed into your hand.