Connotations, or: Perhaps…

My 1^st full sestina

I've been writing poetry for nearly a year; 
Poetic forms beguile and, oh, so fascinate me; 
After all, they shape our intended connotations 
no less than our very words do, and they're so 
much fun to play around with. Perhaps 
I should try my hand at a sestina. 

I've heard tell that one famed sestina
took its tormented composer more than an entire year
to craft so now I'm wondering if, perhaps,
such a project would simply be too much for me;
I mean, let's be honest, shall we? I'm not so
adroit as to evoke especially suggestive connotations.

Still, I could avoid attempting any especially nuanced connotations
entirely if I were to write a true sestina
for the very first; and my readers are all so
kind that they would surely forgive my first-year
clumsiness and continue to shower me
with loving support regardless... well... perhaps...

Really, now that I consider it, perhaps
I shouldn't be so worried about artful connotations
in the first place. They don't really become me,
nor my very direct poetic style; and any sestina
of mine would thus be likely forgotten within a year;
so why worry myself so?

Maybe my first sestina will receive bad reviews. So
what? If the final result is indeed ungainly, perhaps
I could attempt to produce one that's more elegant next year;
I could continue honing those subtle connotations;
I could become a virtuoso of the sestina!
Perhaps, some day, burgeoning poets would speak of me...

No! It shouldn't matter what others think of me;
Exploring poetic forms is something I do for myself, so
if I don't derive pleasure from constructing a sestina,
if the process is unfulfilling, if the words grate on me, perhaps
I should abandon pretentious wordplay; failed connotations;
unflattering attempts at cleverness... at least for another year.

I've never formally studied creative writing, perhaps,
but I have long and deeply pondered the manifold connotations
of the word 'poetry' this year.