Death of the Sonnet

Is the sonnet dead? Has time finally
Claimed this calm configuration of words?
You find so few of them in the wild, the
Sad specimens hobbled like awkward birds,
High-school homework littered with archaic
Language and dusty turns of phrase that serve
To create a pitiful mosaic
For any that that take the time to observe.
Will this form die along with the old man
On the radio and his audience
Of English professors? Is there a plan
To fight furious for the form's defense?
     No. There's not. Compose the sonnet's obit,
     But know this sonnet lives while you read it.

One Hour

I've given myself an hour to write
A proper sonnet in the English style
Of meter and rhyme. I'd like to delight
You with a cunning couplet that would dial
In to the very center of your mind
And provide the proper dénouement to
The well-laid setup that I have refined
Over the first mere dozen lines. So view
This hastily assembled string of words
And tell me if you think I got it right.
Will this only work for poetry nerds?
Or will others sympathize with my plight?
     I gave myself an hour for this rhyme,
     And now I'm done in only half that time.