The Lousy Sonnet

I wrote a lousy sonnet

and I hang my head in shame.
I don’t know what went wrong.
Perhaps the prompt’s to blame?

It concerned a master craftsman
who inspired a journeyman
but it turned out that his journey
didn’t really scan.

There was an almost-good bit
about two astronauts
who met in sexy space suits
and read each other’s thoughts

but the rest was mostly duff lines
on things that can’t be seen
and the whole thing ended badly
“on the threshold of a dream”.

It seemed fresh as it was written
but it curdled as I read.
but perhaps what I was saying
is better left unsaid?