The Mind Was Made for the Sonnet

The mind was made
For the sonnet
Not the other
Way around
Because a poet
Doesn't so much choose
The words to speak
But rather it's the words
To poet that are
Directly bound

Or so it is hoped
But first comes
All the sweat and effort
The daily email reminders
And mental calisthenics to make
Speaking poetically
Sound both direct
And roundabout
At the same time
Not halting and pidgin
But always proceeding
In a natural and
Graceful way and
At a well-tempered pace

But still I'd pay
A king's ransom
To speak the Queens' English
The way a Bodleian man can do
So I could keep pace with
The sparrows all day long
Singing my quatrains and couplets 
Unleashed in an unceasing tide
Of half rhyming
And half blank verse