Am I the New Shakespeare?

A test of prowess and of lingual skill
A way with words and vernacular things
Composed from manners of my true goodwill
I paint with words the craft that is of kings

A blank mind kills the humble sonnet’s being
The quatrains and couplet torment the brain
Some write without a sight that is foreseeing
Of rules and schemes of which they can’t maintain

With articulation and orat’ry
I carve my verse with ingenuity
Of dialect I am a devotee
I’m truly without ambiguity

Though complex and stressful as it may seem
‘Tis I who in the end does reign supreme