Humble Pie

I must accept the things I can't do well.
I'll write a sonnet or a loose pantoum
Because I cannot write a villanelle.

I have a problem and I need to quell
These flowery visions which will never bloom.
I must accept the things I can't do well.

I'll contract handsome troubadours to tell
My tales and publish under noms-des-plumes
Because I cannot write a villanelle.

Though mediocrity is worse than hell,
It's not a heavy burden to assume.
I must accept the things I can't do well.

And even if I knew the magic spell
Whose casting made true poets, don't presume,
Because I cannot write a villanelle,

To master one poetic form, I'd sell
My soul and gleefully invite its doom.
I must accept the things I can't do well
Because I cannot write a villanelle.