Ode to Iambic
Through iambic pentameter I sing!
Without thee nary a poem I'd put down.
Break the ice? In a pickle? No such thing.
Had not found a home in this word town.
Yet not all that glitters is syllabic.
And perhaps not all the world's a stanza.
To be pentameter of the iambic
Or not to be? What a real bonanza!
The world is your gooey lump in a shell.
Join the wild goose chase or move to Carmel.
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