I had a hard time learning how to sonnet,
For my enthusiasm often stills
When any small affliction comes upon it.
Yet, striving to express sufficient skills:
“Oh Google, how do I compose a sonnet?”
Naive, I probed the digital expanse.
I might as well have asked to paint like Monet
(Pronounced to advertise my ignorance).
The crisis rose amid my seventh sonnet,
Which, meter-wise, stood sans cacophony.
But one elusive thought buzzed ’round my bonnet–
Stinging poisonous epiphany:
“Why do my vacations feel like work?
Would I attack Coq au Vin with a spork?”