This is my best attempt at a sonnet. The subject matter is 20th century and I probably do not have the iambic pentameter right. The rhyme scheme is questionable too but I like it. I hope you enjoy it too.
By the way, my posting it here does not mean I give up any rights as a writer.
This Is Not Lady Chatterly's Lover
Metal beams surrounded us instead of trees,
On the day that I first beheld your torso,
And I did not fall shaken to my knees
My astonishment was all the more so.
Sadly, your skin was not alabaster white,
Cause for that you had far too much body hair,
Yet I wanted to have you to my despite,
And a fit of trembling took me then and there.
No washtub there, no sunlight gleaming,
I did not come upon you unawares,
No water down your chest was streaming
Yet you drew from me much more than stares.
And if I am not poet, I'll tell you what,
It's because Oliver Parkin you were not.