In my first-year Intro to English Lit course, we were given the option of writing an essay on a sonnet, or writing a sonnet. I foolishly chose to write a sonnet (which incorporated the word "dastardly" and became an acrostic sonnet about my most recent ex, with a hidden message reading "my love is a weeny").

Anyway, I found this sonnet again recently, and wanted to share with you the limerick I had written as a preface of sorts to my poetic oeuvre:

(ahem)

A rock I sat upon it

And tried to write a sonnet

But for orange could find not a rhyme

Behold a rhyme was found

(Although the cadence went down)

Now I find that I rhyme all the time.