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SHAKESPEARE'S SONNET #16

But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify your self in your decay
With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair,
Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
 To give away yourself, keeps yourself still,
  And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

.............and here is my reply to it.............

RESPONSE IN KIND

in lofty torrents of reverent delay
the eye seeketh not a calmer argument
prisons pry derelicts ad nauseum
from each their dullest day
until here is where the hour shortens
wrestling beauty from a pleasant heart
managing moments plotting parts
were not the trumpet yet fierce
gregarious guts for treason it would take
to lessen each pain's perfect pierce
in doubtless deed so to plead 
a less stagnant stay
steal not stolen thoughts clamping
down in thorough rage
rather gorge thyself on a giver's greed
vulgarity plots upon the cushion
of a staggering wage
whereist doth thy wish to
sensuously assuage
a peerless portal proposing prowess
lest leverage not such lethal umbrage........
(Oct. 16, 2014 344am)