A Sonnet in Class


Say not that Shakespeare is timelessly high
in stature of poets I must observe
Let me feel, let me taste words in my mind’s sigh;
do not command my pen and ink to serve
Your analysis of an art not meant
to be opened by one mindset esteem’d
in power by meaningless titles sent
from high. No, sir professor, I have cleaned
such debris they’ve thrown in my once young mind—
To be or not, let me answer, as I’ve
flushed out the damned spots that have stained me blind.
Your disdain appears where intellect thrives
     So I bite my thumb at you professor,
     And let this sonnet speak my mind no more.



Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741