This Sonnet Is

This sonnet is the sonnet that I write
When I have only fifteen minutes left,
Aware my readership will be bereft
If no new verses show up on this site.
I manage this, and much to their delight
It turns out great, with literary heft
And likely to be subject to grand theft
By plagiarists not yet too tired to fight.

So here you are, stuck in the middle of
A poem that's about composing verse
At once expansive, genuine, and terse,
Replete with wonderful yet bookish love
For prosody, and working hand in glove
With language as unbiased as a curse.