I have no flair for formal poetry
The iamb eludes me, and my lines are
suffocated, yoked and choked by trochee.
My syllable count is off, and by far.
What’s more, I have no eye nor ear for sound
or shape, for that matter. On the page, that
is. My voice is too rickety, I’ve found,
too loose for pentameter, and too flat
To justify breaking the rules so much.
So here it is, my failed stab at the style
So loved by Billy Wigglesticks and such
greats I’ve read for years. It’s so versatile.
For them, not me. They mastered the sonnet.
For me though? I\'d rather have forgone it.