New Sonnet
I sing in iambic pentameter
I use the same rhyme scheme that Shakespeare used
I write of life and limb, of him and her
I spend the best part of each day confused
Self-reference is hardly unbardlike
Neither is coining words as yet unknown
So I tell modesty to take a hike
And celebrate things one can do alone
Oh, I would socialize if someone came
I’d set my pen at rest and talk a storm
Why even now I’ll go and play a game
And have a conversation in that form
Whatever happens is OK with me
As long as I am left alone and free