[for Tom Riley]
Oh who would write them? Only a contrarian;
That guy from Napa writes them all the time.
A stream of words quite perfectly Spenserian,
Arranged in ranks, each with the proper rhyme.
(They follow a precision paradigm)
I don’t know how he does it, I confess.
When I attempt them I commit a crime,
For mine are mostly an unholy mess.
But from this poem’s purpose I digress.
I wrote it for that guy from Napa see,
And that’s the point I really wish to stress:
This sonnet form, I think we’d all agree
Is difficult – damned difficult to do;
That guy from Napa – let’s give him his due.