Folly: A Sonnet Poem by Richard St. Clair

I can't compute the why or what or how
Behind the oddest twists and turns of life
With all the pains and challenges so rife
That, said and done, will come to naught, I know!
I look at life with wizened mien quite droll:
So much is unpredictable, unfair,
That all I sure can do is learn to bear
The hand I'm dealt to this, my mortal coil.
I mix so many metaphors in verse,
Reflecting all my ups and downs, I'm sure,
And if my motives are not true nor pure,
Nathless I'll yield to the poetastric curse.
In folly, I confess, I do indulge,
Not least of which: my Battle of the Bulge.