If I Were Not Me

If I were a rock, I wouldn't want to be flat, so I could roll.
If I were a road I'd charge a reasonable toll.
If I were a tree, I'd want to be a straight one, so I could be tall.
If I were a leaf I'd be evergreen so I'd never fall.
If I weren't disinterested in this I'd keep going.
I looked out the window and saw a rock and it made me think of that first line, so then I typed it and let what followed happen. I suppose this is what you could call a draft. Which makes me wonder if I've posted my sonnet attempt on here. I don't think I have [Wrong. I found it here. - Ajax 9/30/10], but I will now.
Several years ago I was listening to an Internet radio chat show. The topic was poetry, specifically the sonnet. My feeling about poetry is that it can be pretty ridiculous. I love music, and songs are poetry, so I'm not anti-poetry, I just think some of the abstract stuff doesn't make sense. There are a lot of songs that don't make any sense lyrically, but are carried to stardom because of the music behind the lyrics. As I listened to the poetry program they shared some "phenomenal" examples of sonnets. I didn't get them. And that's fine. I don't have to understand or appreciate a poem to make it good to anyone else. But I also don't have to understand how someone else can understand or appreciate some of that stuff. The general message of the program was that it is tough to write a good sonnet. I wondered if that was the case. I searched the Internet for tips on sonnet writing, and then wrote my own. I know it isn't perfectly matched up with the delivery rhythm, but I think I got the rhyming scheme correct. If you are a poetry expert, give me a review, I like constructive criticism. All that remains is for me to find the poem I wrote, and then copy and paste it here:
“Origin of Thought”
Where do my thoughts begin I wonder, if not through my minds front door?
Like whispers on the wind from yonder, not as soldiers marching, or geese beginning their ascent;
Not as a neighbor near approaching on a sunny afternoon.
Sometimes quick, a bit too soon, overpowering and encroaching,
Before I fully comprehend,
Where they come from, over, under,
Does not matter anymore,
But as my thoughts divide asunder,
Which ones I keep becomes the chore
(c) Paul Brodie 2007 [and that's my name, in case you didn't know already. this is the first time I've mentioned my real name on the blog. Paul Ajax Brodie, that's me.]
Now write your own: http://www.ehow.com/how_3335_write-sonnet.html