73. Quality Control

Time was, my Stars and Smileys, I'd go sit at Villa Borghese, have a beer, and crank out two, sometimes three sonnets in a day. But now we're back Stateside and seeing people, having fun, speaking English, and it's becoming harder to find time to just be by myself and get my writing done. I wrote a sonnet today about spending the day with Megan and her brother and his family at Jordan Lake, and when Megan heard it she was like, "Meh."

"Meh." is what this face is saying. Although it
 may be a little come-hither now that I stare at it.

So I said to myself, "Fine. I'll just write another one." And I did.

My sonnets suffer when I'm having fun;

when bored it's easy, making time to write.

But now, the hour grows late; I'm still not done!

I guess complaints of happiness are trite.

I try to separate myself from others

and spend some time, just me and pen and pad.

But why, when friends and family, sisters, brothers

are clamoring, “Look! Good times to be had!”

I made this claim, “A sonnet every day.”

and to that oath I'll make myself be true.

Against my word my time here I must weigh,

'tween pledge and play, deciding what to do.

I'm sorry if my poems aren't always awesome;

it's better than to take my vows and toss 'em.