Alas, no satisfaction cans’t I receive



Update 4/24/17: I won! Will wonders never cease?

Last night, I happened upon this contest from Korrektiv Press to turn a pop song into a sonnet. I’ve had way too much fun writing this, so I thought I’d share and invite you to join in! Feel free to post your own creations in the comments here, as well as in the official contest.

Alas, no satisfaction cans’t I receive
Though the attempt repeatedly I make
Whilst rambling in horseless carriage, without reprieve
Some gentleman drones counsel I shan’t take
Say I, I cannot find contentedness
Though heartily do I endeavor more
The flashing box promotes dementedness
Of a launderer whose tobacco I abhor
Again, bereft, unsatisfied, I cry
Whilst I bemoan the maid with eyes so fair
Who to answer my entreaty doth deny
Even a fleeting glance with me to share
Cheerfulness eludeth me ever
In delight I shall indulge myself never

-The Rolling Stones
I Can’t Get No Satisfaction

Karen Ullo is the author of the vampire saga Jennifer the Damned. To find out more, go to


3 thoughts on “Alas, no satisfaction cans’t I receive

  1. I love yours!! And then couldn’t resist, it was just too much fun. It’s been a looong time since I write a sonnet. I took the easy way out, because the song is sort of like a sonnet anyway. Here’s my version of The Rose, Bette Midler

    Thou say’st love’s a river to drown a tender reed
    That love is just a razor to slice thy soul to core
    Thou point’st to love’s hunger, its endless aching need
    Yet I know love is a flower, and thou its only spore.

    Thou heart afraid of breaking will never learn to dance
    Thou hand that won’t be taken will never reach to give
    Thou dream afraid of waking will never take a chance
    Thou soul afraid of dying will never learn to live.

    When nights become too lonely, thou roads become too long
    And days bestow a single, trailing shadow on the knoll
    Thou think’st love be only for the blessed and the strong
    And hangst thy head in sorrow wrenched by emptiness of soul

    But hidden in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow
    Lies the seed that with the sun’s love in spring becomes the rose.

    Liked by 1 person

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