The contest rules were quite concise

Compile a verse, to be precise,

Admire the loveliness of spring,

Express emotions it can bring. 

The mode was left to writer’s choice,

Such freedom made my heart rejoice,

Pulled out a book to contemplate

The perfect type to seal my fate!

Could pen a sonnet of true love

‘Tween star-crossed finch and turtle dove,

Or write a haiku, sweet and short,

Convey how butterflies cavort.

A free-flow verse to rhapsodize

On daffodils and cloud-puffed skies,

Compose an ode with tongue in cheek,

About snow-melt and swollen creek.

A pyramid of clarity,

With wild geese soaring in a V,

Heroic epic to Sir Bear,

Who woke to quest for Lady Fair.

An easy, breezy limerick,

An epigram, sly and slick,

A rondelet or villanelle,

A triolet or terzanelle.

Please stop!  I can no more abide,

This frenzied, overwhelming tide!

Waves rolling in without a lull,

Have left me with a throbbing skull!

Alas, I thought ‘twould be a lark,

A carefree walk in cheerful park.

Oh woe, the simple choice of style,

Has fried my brain and dimmed my smile.

Free option has be-spoiled my mood,

Called forth a tendency to brood,

The deadline looms, I’ve no more time!

Forget the form, just make it rhyme:

Spring nights in Maine are cold and deep,

I curl up tight, escape in sleep,

Pull cozy quilt above my head,

And dream of summer warmth instead!