The Ode Less Poem by Janet Budd

I read this book by Fry, the Stephen sort.
It urges me to exercise my mind
By harvesting a random sea of thoughts
And mould them into verse forms of some kind.
I dance iambic feet across the page
With rondel and rondeau I sing duets
I’m armed with sonnets of a varied range
I tarry with tanka and triolet
With humour Stephen kicks me up the bum
He reins my soaring spirit into gear
I think he needs to pen a further tome
Mixed metaphors are my Achilles heel.
I’ve caught the writing bug, there is no doubt
But Stephen please, my flaws need ironing out.