The Poet's Pain

An ode to the sufferings of a sonnet writer

The Poet’s Pain

If into poems, you would like to dive
Then you must labour like a farmer's ox
Without trouble and toil, no art may thrive
It's not enough to think outside the box.

Amongst all forms of poems, there are few
Which capture people's hearts like the sonnet
Oh what would all of them say if they knew
The endless pain it brings to the poet!

We desperately search for words that rhyme
In ten syllables, the words we compress
And then, to rub our wounds with salt and lime,
The stress on stresses brings us further stress

So spare a thought for those who write sonnets
To bring you joy, we die a thousand deaths


Shakespearean Sonnet, written for "Invalid Item"   by A Guest Visitor