I do not do well with a rule-book, no!
I prefer to be whimsical and free.
I struggle when counting syllables, so
metre’s a mystery to me. (Oops.)
As a child I derided the rhyme scheme –
“something trashy from a bad birthday card”.
I’m so shocked and appalled that I could scream
to find out that it’s actually quite hard.
How many haiku could I have written
in the syllables I’ve hurled at this page?
I must keep to one theme like I’m smitten,
a ceaseless squeak from the back of the cage.
So when they told me to write a sonnet
I thought “on it”, but – dogonnit! – blown it.