The villanelle won’t jell,I feel dismay.
I know they’re hell ,but they distill my thoughts
A triolet would work if I could play
I boiled the villanelle to sell today
I do believe I’m feeling underwrought
The villanelle won’t jell,I feel dismay
I planned to sell the whole lot on Ebay
But someone gave a hint I never caught
A triolet would work if I could play
I appreciate the values of wet hay
My teacher never mentioned poems caught short
The villanelle won’t sell,I can’t display.
Some will plight their troth and others pray
The teacher saw the writing she’d not taught
A triolet would work if I could play
I wrote a poem with words I had not sought
Is it vice to pay when we’ve not bought?
The villanelle won’t jell,I say,hurrah
A violin would work if you could play
