Hello;

My name is John Doe and I’m a poet.

It’s been twenty four hours since I wrote my last one.

It was supposed to be in iambic pentameter,

But it came out in a rash of caesurae and enjambments,

So it scanned like Shakespeare on speed.

I’m trying to do it right, but it’s hard, you know?

Some days I just have to scribble some doggerel,

Or even Christmas card rhymes just to get my fix.

Other days, the alliteration just pours promptly from my pen,

Or the stanzas simply scroll across my screen.

Those days though, those delicious days, are few;

Even then, the idyllic, dactylic rhyme can seem imbecilic

If it doesn’t flow fluently on the page.

I’m sorry for all those I’ve assaulted with dissonant assonance,

Or the hubris of hyperspatial hyperbole.

I will try to make amends,

Without overtaxing the syntax.

I’m taking it just one day at a time;

A few couplets, a quatrain or two.

Maybe on the good days some faltering free verse,

Or a voluptuous villanelle.

I can do it.

I know I can.