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Poem
A long, long time ago, when I was young,
on watching skaters move on Poets’ Pond,
(some gliding with great skill, some taking falls).
I donned skates of my own and I began. . . 
Around, around I went, and in my mind,
a lilting rhythm came and said to me:
Go ON and ON and ON and ON and ON.
But I was youthful, restless, uninspired. . .
I left that pond and put my skates away,
to take a path removed from poetry.

Ten years became a decade, then ten more,
and suddenly, a new millennium!
My muse, now heartened, came to me and brought
those skates, which for so long, I had not used.
A bit unsure, I stood beside that pond.
The skates seemed more attractive now. They gleamed!
And something else - new thoughts came to my mind!
The things I’d dreamed and lost; the things I’d gained
came flooding over me; then said my muse -
Go ON and ON and ON and ON and ON. . . 

I noticed all around me other souls
who often showed completely different styles!
Some glided with elaborate smooth moves
while others whirled and danced with arabesques.
The artists leapt and made me catch my breath,
another group did spins to make me laugh.
Some moved, at times, with jolts, and some fell down,
but rarely did a one of them fall out!
For all of them shared passion for one thing -
and so to Poets’ Pond we’d all been drawn.

Go ON and ON and ON and ON and ON,
my sweet muse whispered, and I could not stop.
I tried to model those who skated free,
for some of them made circles all around
me, and I dearly wished that I could be
among that group, glean popularity!
But all I really know and like to do
is move to my own beat. Iambic skates
are those that fit me best. No world-class star
I’ll ever be in poetry’s new world,
but ON I’ll go - and ON and ON and ON. .

By Andrea Dietrich
(This is iambic pentameter in blank verse)
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