He's finished eleven sonnets before the end of the year. Will he complete the twelfth? A Thriller

I promised sonnets twelve ere end of year,

But will I meet my arbitrary goal?

Or will I fail and earn the critic's sneer?

Unbid the seconds tick to Midnight's toll.

 

This seems a use untoward for the form.

Suspense is not the sonnet's native state.

I have a psychopathic mental storm

And find I can't continue past line eight.

 

And here the moment comes when all seems lost

(A turning point in screen- or tele-play)

I eat some pie and from my brain gale-tossed

A third quatrain appears to save the day.

 

My sonnet's done, the twelfth of twelve, a wrap;

Nintendo now and well-deservéd nap.

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Note the accent on the second "E" of "deservéd."

That shows that it's three syllables.

And it's classy.

Shut up, it IS.