Sense Sonnet - Pumper

 My Wish By Year End

I pen a lot of poems with

The hope that maybe the next one

Will make critiques of me a myth

That poor poems are all I've done.

My rhymes are forced, my meter's off,

My poems never make a point.

Put down the pen my critics scoff,

Getting my nose way out of joint.

I promised myself that this year

I'd show the critics that I could

Prove them wrong as I persevere

To pen a poem really good.

Just a few weeks until year end.

My perfect poem still needs penned.