ON WHY I'M NOT WRITING A SONNET TODAY

How weighty is the need to write it right,
an obligation to reach perfect form.
I can't put down a word for fear I'd harm
my reputation, lost without a fight.
For wouldn't critics find me quite the dunce?
They'd point out every inconsistent stress,
my sonnet then exposed a jumbled mess.
Oh, how I'd like to beat them just this once!

This sestet should be answering my plea
instead it sits here empty of resolve,
my fragile self esteem far too involved.
Enjambment jams my stanzas hopelessly; 
iambs and rhymes spin madly in my head.
Perhaps I'll write a limerick instead.


© 2000 Judy Anne