I wrote a Petrarchan Sonnet in Iambic pentameter as part of an application for volunteer work at a writing center. It is below. I am now a volunteer there.
They say it’s difficult to write a rhyme/
That meter’s ticking like a metronome/
And one’s organic voice is now a drone/
How can a writer feel in marking time?/
In freeform I respect a blob of nouns/
But I don’t know which ones I should display/
I might just throw a dart at what to say/
But no, it lands on one I can’t pronounce/
I know! I’ll pick up my guitar and sing!/
Then words will have to come out to the beats/
And I’ll pretend I had them all along/
Well, shoot, guitar’s one thing I didn’t bring/
But in my heart there’s one line that repeats:/
“Write from myself, and then those words belong.”
Wreturning to Writing,
Art
Arthur Hovinc's Port Manteau 