An Artist's Complaint - A Sonnet Poem by Richard St. Clair

Perhaps it is a thing too bold to say
If our existence is a foolish thing
Or something we can celebrate and sing
With verse of joy from dawn to dusk each day!
I've had my share of pleasure and reward,
And more than my dark share of punishment
For time a-wasted, effort poorly spent:
The mere thought leaves me treacherously bored.
The once great tones of sonnets' thriving art
Live on today though in an alien form;
No longer do they far and widely warm
So many a sweet and longing lover's heart.
Though poems of today good sense do swindle,
They never will my rhyming art unkindle.