6.4.14's offering for US National Poetry Month

Another poem to hack out,
A flood instead of the usual drought,
This month I dare not slack,
Even if inspiration I lack,
The daily schedule to survive?
Shall I knock out a three line haiku?
Would you, catch a fleeting quatrain,
Or take five, to ameliorate the strain?
I'm now at six, next hardly seventh heaven
Lord knows how I'll make eleven
Twelve, thirteen, tarnation on it
Fourteen suggests a sonnet?  
Fifteen? Oh "dead man's chest"
and that many pirates upon it
Already losing reason stroke rhyme
What may poetry month evoke in time?
I own this day's diatribe seems shirty
TGIA which hath only thirty.