Our Sonnet

I try to write a sonnet on my arse,
But putting pen to buttock is a pain
I bend and twist in agonising farce -
Applying nib to bum is quite insane.

I rest a while from my inspired rear work
And stand up straight to clench the stanzas four,
Compress them into centre court - "You jerk!"
I hear my critics loud, and cheer once more.

And now I pray it's saved on my behind,
Without the need for anal, strict revision.
Both love and butts are fundamentally blind -
To post this now will be a rash decision.

Will all reviews, if any, just decry our sonnet?
For sure! I'd even bet my arse on it!