Perhaps I should compose a Villanelle

Instead of cursing circumstance and fate

For that’s what poets do when all’s not well

​

I can’t complete a sonnet for my bélle

And far too many lines reiterate

Perhaps I should compose a Villanelle

​

When angst is racing through my mind pell-mell

Then through my pen I must articulate

For that’s what poets do when all’s not well

​

My sonnet’s limpid, vapid, bagatelle

Despite the noble words I dedicate

Perhaps I should compose a Villanelle

​

To no endeavour will my mind impel

I need to find a spark to compensate

For that’s what poets do when all’s not well

​

So what then for my sonnet? Who can tell?

It’s all so arduous to contemplate

Perhaps I should compose a Villanelle

For that’s what poets do when all’s not well