The Seinfeld – Sonnet XXXV

I’m trying to do a sonnet straight from heart;
No edits, tweaking, change of any kind.
The line must come to mind before I start
The typing which will capture things I find.
The second quatrain – task is getting hard;
I even made one edit – please don’t tell.
There’s nothing here resembling The Bard;
A sonnet in form only – straight from hell (?)
At quatrain three I’m over half-way there;
Devoid of meaning – are you reading still?
No content here about which one should care;
This exercise a silly mental spill…

But words in rhythm, form, and pleasant rhyme
Will tide me o’er until another time.

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