If music be the food of love, today We settle for a dreadful, processed fare That leaves us ever wand'ring on our way And leaves us gasping for the fresher air. We hunger for the sweet and sav'ry treats That music once provided long ago; But when one finds, one rarely ever eats, Dismissing, as it were, as naught but woe. But music often sadness does describe, And not just happiness or lust or mirth— Yea, music can be bitter to imbibe, But in that music many find more worth. And those who search for music free from strife Will never know the pains of truest life.
A sonnet about the triteness of pop music. Title stolen from Shakespeare, on the 400th anniversary of his death. I wrote this on a whim in a comment on a thread in the unofficial NaNoWriMo Facebook group. It's been a long time since I've written a sonnet.