Talentless Sonnet

Why do I try to make them fit the line,
The words that flop along like broken chains?
No matter what I try there’s one foot that remains
And adds an extra vertebra to its spine.

Oh, why do I keep searching for a rhyme
When, trained to parse another speech, my brains
Can’t even hear what vowel a word contains
And the sounds all fail to other ears than mine?

If I had any wisdom I’d decline
To undergo these horrid mental strains
Whose end is to turn thoughts into ink stains:
All I can do in verses is to whine -

And yet I am not willing to forego it.
I don’t know why. They should have sent a poet.

Harmke van Dijk

If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Harmke van Dijk  would be pleased to hear them.