|Can this, my model, see ol’ Bill or stall?|
I keep all waiting long, I hope you stay
The basic fact is easily clear for all
To churn such verse a billion times a day.
To be a model writer tries the brains
As random thoughts my words can grate, can grind
Especially for now, your topic strains
So I will bore you now, just wait and find.
But wait, iambic rules do guide my pen
My sonnets suffer now from you, my foe
The truth be told, it’s clear my work’s not Zen
You test, you prod, and I do feel your blow.
This early model here my scripts expose,
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose!